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The Lord Protector 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


THE CHEVALIER D’AURIAC : 
A Romance. Crown 8vo. $1-25 

THE HEART OF DENISE and 
Other Tales. With Frontispiece. 
Crown 8vo. $1-25 








V * ) ) 




(f 





Page 38 







The Lord Protector 

i 

A Story 


v^ 

S; LEVETT-YEATS 

Author of 

'The Chevalier D’Auriac,” “ The Heart of Denise," etc. 



LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 

91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
LONDON AND BOMBAY 


1902 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUN. 23 1905 

Copyright entry 

CLASS #/XXo No. 

3loL 2 - 

CO PY B. 

Copyright, 1902, by 

S. LEVETT-YEATS 

All rights reserved 


• tt 

• » 


» • • • ♦ 
• « • * « 



TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
NEW YORK 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Man and a Maid i 

II. A Man who Loves 16 

III. The Luck of Harden 3 2 

IV. The Little God’s Arrow 46 

V. The Woman of Babylon 61 

VI. In the Blue Room 74 

VII. Knave Against Knight 85 

VIII. The Hand of a Friend 102 

« 

IX. The Lord Protector 117 

X. Between Man and Man 131 

XI. The Image of the King 144 

XII. The Waters of Bitterness ...... 161 

XIII. Taken by Escalade 176 

XIV. The Covenant of Patience Burnside . .190 


V 


vi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XV. The Betrayal 206 

XVI. The Net Closes 220 

XVII. The Rose Pleasaunce 235 

XVIII. Her Forgiveness 254 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


CHAPTER I 

A MAN AND A MAID 

A long, shrill whistle rang through the woods. 
It was not loud, but penetrating, and went far into 
the forest, sliding past oak and beech, until it lost 
itself in still, dark deeps of green foliage and thick 
undergrowth. 

For a moment the blackbird ceased his song; the 
brown squirrel lay flat against the mottled chestnut 
bough, whereon he was frisking, and the fox, al- 
ready afoot and ready to take the road, crouched 
low in his cover, with ears laid back, and but for 
the faint flick of his brush, seemed no more than a 
boulder. 

There was a scramble and a scamper through the 
thickets as the timid deer, roused by the sound, 
dashed off in reckless haste, the stag, bearing on his 
antlers long, fluttering strings of white-blossqmed 
bindweed, which clung to him as he fled in blind 
terror, instinct leading him to some far-off refuge. 


2 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Then all was as before. The blackbird resumed 
his song, the squirrel leaped nimbly from branch to 
branch, and the fox with a snarl crept softly off 
through the low, dark tunnels of the underwood. 
It was but a whistle : there was no blast of horn or 
bay of hound, and, indeed, these never woke the 
sleeping echoes of the afternoon; but this born rob- 
ber would take no risks, and so took another road 
to that which he had originally intended. He was 
bound to the outlying farm over the low hills to the 
west, where Boaz Hopkins was careless of his goods. 
With the morning Boaz would lament the loss of 
his fattest duckling — but there are things which 
touch us nearer than the forays of the red fox, and 
so to them. 

A moment or so after the shrill cadence of the 
whistle had died away, a man emerged from the 
thickets and moved cautiously forwards, until at 
last he halted at the head of a glade, half overshad- 
owed by an enormous elm. He looked on all sides 
of him as if expecting someone, or some answer to 
his call, for it was he who had set the forest echoes 
ringing; but he saw no one, and there was no re- 
sponse to his signal. 

With a muttered exclamation of disappointment 
he turned abruptly aside, and, sitting down- on the 
trunk of a fallen tree that lay near him, began idly 


A MAN AND A MAID 


3 


digging into the green turf with his spurred heel. 
The age was one in which men were at each other’s 
throats in England, and slew each other for the 
right divine of kings, or the diviner right of liberty, 
and our man was. a King’s man, as could be seen 
at a glance. 

He was dressed in the rich Cavalier attire of the 
times, but his clothes bore evidence of hard usage, 
and the red plumes of the hat he had cast carelessly 
aside were thick with burrs, and frayed with the 
thorns of the woodland. The long, fair locks he 
wore framed a face that was eminently handsome — 
almost too good-looking, indeed, for a man; but his 
grey eyes were keen as a hawk’s, if like the hawk’s 
they were hard and steely, whilst a short, upturned 
moustache concealed the bow of his mouth, hiding 
all trace of character it may have shown. 

To a certain extent, he had the soul of an artist, 
and, hunted outlaw as Kit Harden was, with a price 
on his head, and death but a few yards away, he let 
his eyes rest for a space on the landscape around 
him, and, in truth, it was fair to see. On the right 
and left of him Coombe Woods stretched deep and 
green. The rich sward at his feet was starred with 
wild flowers, and, at the head of the glade a narrow 
pathway led up to a rising bank, all pink and yellow 
with campion and goldilocks. The pathway ran 


4 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


across a rustic bridge that spanned a woodland 
stream — a still, quiet stream that crept slowly along, 
and wound sluggishly into the forest deeps. On 
either side the wings of the forest opened out, show- 
ing a glimpse of green hills, the grey outlines of a 
stately country seat, the spire of a church, and the 
red roofs of a little hamlet, nestling in a hollow. 
In an hour or so the sun would set, and the shadows 
were already long, whilst a sleepy west wind brought 
across meadow and lea the sweet scent of the new- 
mown hay. 

Perhaps some thought of the peace around him 
and the danger of his own position stirred a jarring 
note in the man, and he suddenly arose. “ Bah ! ” 
he said. “ Ten years ago I might have turned a 
mawkish sonnet on this; but now it is dull — dam- 
nably so! I wonder what keeps my pretty maid? 
I shall signal again ! ” And once more the whistle 
went through the woods. 

Almost on his signal, the slight, grey-cloaked 
figure of a woman appeared on the bridge, and with 
a little cry she hastened towards him. Harden went 
forward eagerly to meet her, and as she came up, he 
took her outstretched hands, and drew her gently 
towards him. 

“ At last ! ” he said, putting back her hood, and 
looking down upon the shy, proud face. “ At last ! 


A MAN AND A MAID 


5 


I had all but given up hope of your coming! It is 
a whole week since I have seen you — know you 
what that means to me? ” 

There was a great tenderness and love in his voice, 
his hawk-like eyes had softened inexpressibly, and 
the girl yielded to the strong arm enfolding her 
waist, and thus they walked together, no word being 
exchanged between them until they reached the 
fallen tree-trunk. Here Harden bent down to kiss 
her, and saw that her eyes were full of tears, and that 
there was fear and trouble on her face. 

“ Doll ! ” he said, “ is there anything wrong? 
Tell me, dearest ! ” She drew back gently from his 
encircling arm. 

“ Listen, Kit ! I could not come before; I feared 
once I would not be able to come at all; but I wanted 
to be happy for just one moment before I spoke. 
I have ill news, Kit! News of the worst for you.” 
His fine eyebrows arched upwards at her speech, as 
he smiled back. 

“ That is no new thing. Ever since Worcester 
field was lost, no day has passed but brought its tale 
of ill for me. I am used to bad news.” 

“ But this is bad indeed ! ” She went on earn- 
estly : “ Your kinsman, Colonel Antony Maunsell, 
and his Roundheads are at Coombe Royal.” 

Harden started at the name, and a flinty look 
came into his eyes. 


6 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ Maunsell ! Black Tony ! He at Coombe Royal ! 
When did he come? ” 

“ He has been here a full week, with four score 
and more of the Ironsides.” 

“ Curse them ! ” He muttered under his breath, 
as Dorothy Capel went on rapidly : “ But the worst 
is to come. They seek you, Kit ! They have some- 
how heard that you are here, and the whole country- 
side is watched. I know this, and that they’ll surely 
search the woods.” Here for a moment her voice 
failed her, and her small gloved hand rested trem- 
blingly on his sleeve as she gasped: “Ah, Kit, if 
they take you my heart will break ! ” 

Kit Harden had grasped the full significance of 
her words as she spoke, and knew or rather felt that 
his hour was come. Since Worcester was won, and 
the King’s side scattered for ever, there had been 
no greater thorn in Cromwell’s side than this fiery 
spirit. Ever on the move, with a restless ability 
that might, but for other things, have made him the 
Claverhouse of England, Sir Christopher Harden, 
under the flag of Royalism, fought only for his own 
hand. He had lost his all. To him money was a 
necessity. Straitened means were worse than death 
to him, and he was now playing his last card to set 
himself on his feet once more. Dorothy Capel’s 
lands and her ten thousand a year were all but his, 


A MAN AND A MAID 


7 


and thus it was gall and wormwood to know that 
he was trapped almost in the hour of his triumph. 

But whatever emotions might have been in his 
mind he showed no trace of any thought, but of 
concern for the girl before him. 

“ Fear not, dear heart,” he said, reassuringly, 
his arm once more around her waist, “ I would not 
that there was a tear in your eye, or a rose from your 
cheek, because there is ill news for poor Kit Harden. 
Besides,” — and he laughed joyously — “ none knows 
my hiding-place. Coombe Woods are dark and 
deep. Mind you how Effingham and Chetwynd lay 
here a whole week with Noll’s bloodhounds baying 
all around them. Fear not, then! ” 

Dorothy Capel tried to smile through her tears; 
but it was in vain. 

“ But I do fear,” she said. “ They hid safe, ’tis 
true, but no soul about the countryside knew they 
were here; but, alas ! I know this is not so with you. 
We have been watched and spied upon. Only 
yesterday as I left you I saw Elihu Burnside.” 

“The Parliament preacher! He here?” Har- 
den’s arm dropped to his side. 

“ Yes ! He came on the same day as the soldiers, 
and Parson Hildreth’s rectory is now his, and he 
was watching, spying upon us ! ” And she stamped 
her little foot with anger, and looked up at Harden’s 


8 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


face, only to see that the man’s mind was far away, 
and as he stood, leaning on the hilt of his sword, 
he murmured all low to himself, so that the words 
came not to the girl in their full sense and meaning : 
“ Burnside ! Burnside ! If pretty Patience has held 
her tongue, all may yet go well.” 

All that Dorothy Capel heard were the words, 
“ Pretty Patience,” and a jealous pang shot through 
her. 

“ Pretty Patience? What mean you, Kit?” 

She had stepped back a pace from him at his 
words, and Harden brought himself together with 
something of an effort. 

“ I did but recall a memory. I — I — did this man 
and his daughter some service once — they called it 
saving their lives; ” and then, with a careless note 
in his voice, he asked : 

“ Is she here?” 

Dorothy Capel had stooped as he spoke, and was 
plucking at the wild flowers at her feet. She seemed, 
indeed, not to hear him, and it was only on his re- 
peating the question that she arose slowly and an- 
swered coldly: 

“ How should I know? ” 

The flicker of a smile passed over Harden’s lips 
as he bent forward to answer her. 

“ Nay, sweet, be not angry ! You know my heart 


A MAN AND A MAID 


9 


is yours.” But still she kept her face averted, her 
eyes upon the posy of forget-me-nots she had gath- 
ered, whilst she answered : 

“ Sometimes my heart misgives me; I ” 

But Christopher Harden was a bold wooer, and 
well knew the ways of a maid. Forthwith he placed 
his arm about her, and drew her towards him, mas- 
terful and strong, as he spoke. 

“ There ! Let this set your heart at rest, sweet- 
heart! I count these kisses as a miser counts his 
gold. You doubt me no longer, Doll? ” 

With this he gently detached the flowers from 
her yielding fingers, and placed them in the lapel 
of his coat, smiling as he did so, with love and ten- 
derness in his eyes, upon the blushing face that 
rested on his shoulder. 

So they stayed for a space, and then Dorothy 
Capel came back to the moment, saying gravely: 

“ No, Kit ! I do not doubt you now — nay ! Lis- 
ten! Be serious for one moment. We must think 
of some other hiding-place for you. You cannot 
stay here longer.” 

“ Best take to my earth once more,” he answered; 
“ there is nowhere else to go.” 

She wrung her hands as Harden went on : 
“ Flight is impossible. The countryside is full of 
troops, and I have no horse, else I might win 
through.” 


IO 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ And the King’s service and the Parliament have; 
left me none ! ” 

“ Poor lass ! ” 

“ Ay, poor indeed ! ” she said bitterly, “ for Maum 
sell is master in Coombe Royal now.” 

“ Coombe Royal, too. Were not my lands of 
Hardenholt enough for him? ” 

“ But there is more. The Lord Protector has 
placed me in his custody, and — and I am Colonel 
Maunsell’s prisoner.” 

“ Prisoner ! You ! ” There was deep indignation 
in Harden’s voice, and, as if unconsciously, his right 
hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Most women 
like to feel that the man they love is quick to re- 
sent even any fancied wrong done to them. They 
love to feel the sense of safety in a strong arm, 
ready to strike at their lightest word, and so the 
rose came back to Dorothy Capel’s cheek as she 
looked at the high bearing of her lover. “ Yes,” 
she ran on in quick anger, “ I am forbidden by him 
to leave the house, else we had met before, but to- 
day I slipped away in my maid’s hood and cloak. 
Think you they become me? ” And she made him 
a rustic curtsey, laughing as she spoke. 

And Harden gave the only reply possible, saying 
as he did : 


“ There is my answer, sweet.” 


A MAN AND A MAID 


ii 


“ Only that ! You might say something.” 

Kit Harden poured his heart out in low, deep 
tones, in a voice that vibrated with his emotion. 

“ Does that not tell you all? Can you want 
more? Your dear face has filled my waking dreams. 
The thought of your love is courage and strength 
to me — I who am hunted like a beast of the field. 
Ah, dear, I live but for your service and the King’s.” 

•She listened as only a woman can to the pas- 
sionate words of the man, and then harked back 
womanlike to her jealous thoughts. 

“ And your pretty Patience? ” she asked. 

“ The little Puritan ! ” Harden laughed out mer- 
rily; “ look in your mirror, child ! Is there need to 
fear? ” 

Something in the laugh jarred on her. She came 
close to him. 

“ Kit ! You love me? ” 

He put his arm through hers, and lover-like they 
stood, he looking down upon the sweet eyes that 
drooped before his gaze. 

“ Love you? Ay ! But for that love what would 
life be ! ’Tis hard, dear one, to lie awake at nights, 
counting the rustle of each leaf an enemy, to see 
one’s lands usurped, one’s name besmirched with 
the foulest calumny; but if I keep my honour and 
your love ” 


13 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ Ah, Kit, Kit ! Would that these times were 
over! But your safety, Kit! And we stand idly 
in foolish talk.” 

Harden was not the first man who was willing to 
risk his life for ten minutes with a sweet face and a 
pair of blue eyes, and so he only smiled back. 

“ Think not of me ! ” And then in graver tones : 
“ How can I leave you, mistress mine? ” 

“ But I have naught to fear.” 

“ Naught to fear ! ’Tis little you know, Doll. 
And yet ’tis not I alone who should be able to see 
Black Tony’s aim. Cannot you guess, child? ” 

“ N — o ! ” she answered doubtfully, as Harden 
continued : 

“ ’Tis you — you and Coombe Royal. He has 
waxed fat on the inheritance of his kindred. Under 
the ordinance he has seized upon Hardenholt, and 
now a richer prize lies within his grasp, and Tony 
Maunsell is not the man to hold back when a pretty 
woman and ten thousand a year lie in his hands. 
He is rich; he is powerful and high in Cromwell’s 
favour, whilst I — ” he turned aside as he went on 
bitterly — “ I am a beggar and an outcast, and can 
stretch forth no hand to save my love.” 

“ Kit ! ” she said, holding her hands out to him, 
“ Kit ! ” But the despair of his mood went over 
him like a passing squall. 


A MAN AND A MAID 


13 


“ A beggar and an outcast, I say. Why, the first 
man who meets me could kill me like a mad dog ! ” 
And then he turned towards her as a sob burst from 
the girl. 

“Not that! Not that! Else you unman me. 
Oh! How I curse the follies of the past that have' 
lost me all ! ” 

She had steadied herself as he spoke. As he 
seemed to grow weak the frail woman became 
strong. 

“ Kit,” she said, “ take heart. Don’t speak like 
that.” 

“ Oh, I care not for lands or life, but to lose 


“ I love you, Kit,” she said bravely. “ They will 
never part us.” 

“ Never!” 

“Never! Oh, never!” 

Harden put his hand on her shoulder and would 
have spoken, but at that moment there came to 
them the mellow tolling of the church bells. It 
came to them with a sense of warning that they had 
lingered too long with danger so near. Dorothy 
Capel blamed herself in her heart for this, and drew 
back from Harden’s hand. 

“ Kit, it grows late, and I dare not stay longer; 
and the woods are no longer safe for you. Oh, 
what shall we do? ” 


14 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ There is nothing to do, dear heart ! ” he said 
grimly; “ they will never, however, take Harden of 
Hardenholt living ” 

But as he spoke a light came into her eyes. 

“ Stay, I have it ! There is a place they have 
searched through and through, from floor to ceil- 
ing, and there they will search no more. Come to 
Coombe Royal at nightfall. You know the little 
postern; the woods run right up to it, and you can 
get there without a soul seeing you. The wicket 
will be open. Come through the garden into the 
blue room. I will be there. Until night keep to 
the sanctuary.” 

“ But once in Coombe Royal ” 

“A woman’s wit will save you, Kit. And now 
good-bye, dear heart ! ” 

She let him kiss her once, and then, slipping from 
his grasp, ran lightly down the path. A moment 
later she had crossed the bridge and was lost to 
view. Harden stood looking after her, his hat in 
his hand, the long red plumes touching the green 
sward. Reckless as he was, for a little space there 
came to him something that was almost a regret. 
Half-unconsciously he repeated Drayton’s lines : 

“ Since there’s no help, come — let us kiss and part, 

Nay, I have done ” 

And then Kit Harden was Kit Harden again. 


A MAN AND A MAID 


15 

“ Peste! ” he exclaimed, cocking his plumed hat 
on his head. “ I did not think this of you, Har- 
den ! ” Whereat he laughed to himself, and, detach- 
ing Doll’s flowers from his coat, held them lightly in 
his hand. 


CHAPTER II 


A MAN WHO LOVES 

“ They're all alike," he laughed, pointing with the 
flowers in the direction Dorothy Capel had taken. 
“ Let a man but have turfed a little, flung a main or 
so, killed his man, and run through his estate, I'd 
wager a thousand to ten he wins his way better with 
a woman than any Master Graveairs — par exemple , 
my good cousin Anthony! Ha! ha! I fancy I've 
spoilt any trifle of good opinion Doll may have had 
of him ! " He paused for a moment and then ran 
on, “ But Lady Dorothy Capel is a little — exacting, 
shall we say? Eh, Kit! She and Coombe Royal 
together might be endured; but without Coombe 

Royal " He made a wry face, and carelessly 

tossed the flowers aside. “ Heigho ! There are 
weary hours to be spent in that cursed sanctuary, as 
they call it. Effingham and Chetwynd were at least 
able to play, whilst I — I am alone. I would I could 
set eyes on my sweet Puritan again. Egad, she was 
even more diverting than that other girl. Tush ! my 
16 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


17 


memory goes. The little French girl that waited 
on the Queen ” 

He stopped abruptly in his self-communion. His 
quick ear had caught a sound, and he pulled himself 
together like a stag, one hand resting on the hilt of 
his rapier. Thus for a moment, and then he stepped 
back behind the cover of the elm, and now his drawn 
sword was in his hand. 

In that clear summer air sound travelled far, and 
Harden was not wrong. Someone was coming 
through the woods, and was close at hand, too. He 
leaned forward from his shelter, and took a search- 
ing, rapid glance down the little pathway, as it 
wound into the aisles of the forest, and then drew 
himself lightly back, with a look of astonishment and 
amusement on his face. 

“Ye gods!” he exclaimed mockingly, as he 
glanced upwards. “ Thou hast heard my prayer. 
’Tis my pretty Puritan herself, and old Sawtext, too ! 
I must get a word with her somehow! I’ll take 
cover here! Chance may favour me, and I’ll take 
the risk of the Cropheads finding me.” 

So saying, he slid back, soft as a panther, into 
the covert with the noiseless skill he had learned in 
the New World, whither, when barely twenty, his 
hot blood had led him with Lee and Effingham. 
There, crouched in the underwood, with a tangle 


1 8 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

of thorn around him, he waited, still as a stone. 
And he had not long to wait. In effect, Harden 
had but barely reached his cover when two persons 
came out of the forest into the open, moving slowly 
towards the bridge. A glance at their sombre attire 
showed that they were Puritans, and that one was 
a cleric; and of him it might be said at once that, 
unlike his terrible brethren, though he was no whit 
behind them in zeal, Elihu Burnside had a gentle- 
ness and simplicity of spirit that went far to soften 
his fanaticism, and, indeed, his actions had once or 
twice caused his sincerity to be doubted by the 
faithful. 

In his daughter, who walked by the old man's 
side, the most exacting judge of beauty would, per- 
haps, have been satisfied. Tall and straight as a 
lance, the stiffness of her dress could not conceal the 
graceful outlines of her figure. The dark hair tried 
to escape in little curls from the prim bands in 
which it was held bask, and there was a wilful chal- 
lenge in the night-black eyes of Patience Burnside 
that told their story, so that Harden, as he lay watch- 
ing, old memories awake within him, muttered low 
to himself : 

“ She is a queen amongst women — a queen ! ” 

They had stopped almost on the spot where 
Harden had bidden farewell to Dorothy Capel, and 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


19 


Burnside, pointing with his hand towards hamlet 
and church, spoke what was nearest his heart, using 
the quaint phraseology that his class affected. 

“ Verily, ’tis a stiff-necked generation, these men 
of Coombe ! Daily have I called upon them to hear 
me expound the Word, but they answer not, neither 
do they come. Rather seek they the secret hiding- 
places where the false shepherd, the old Belial, whom 
the Council of State hath cast from his seat, deludes 
them with vain imaginings.” Patience Burnside’s 
long lashes drooped over her eyes so that none could 
see the expression in them, as she answered in a low, 
sweet voice: 

“ But surely the light will come to them? ” 

“ Nay, daughter, my heart misgiveth me ! ’Twill 
be to-day as yesterday, and as the day before — the 
Sabbath itself.” 

To the simple old man the fact that the country- 
side was royalist to the backbone, and let their faith 
go with their politics, was a matter of genuine and 
deep regret. It was his to point the way of salva- 
tion, as he thought, to these wayward sheep; but 
they strayed far from him, and would have none of 
a shepherd, in a snuff-coloured coat, thrust upon 
them by my Lords of the Parliament. All this his 
daughter knew, and in the hope of softening his 
disappointment she said: 


20 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ But there are those who will hear thee. Hath 
not Colonel Maunsell come to Coombe with the 
cornet Rock and a host of his men of war? Surely 
they who are the chosen of the Lord Protector are 
godly men, and will attend to hearken unto thee.’ , 

And it may have been fancy, but there was a low 
chuckle in the thickets — so low, indeed, that neither 
father nor daughter heard the scoffer who lay con- 
cealed behind the thorn, with the bitter-sweet twin- 
ing overhead. 

Burnside made a gesture of disappointment as he 
answered, “ They have come, ’tis true, but not to 
hear me. They have come to chase unto death our 
former benefactor, Sir Christopher Harden.” 

The red came and went from Patience Burnside’s 
cheek. She dropped the glove she carried in her 
hand, and hurriedly picking it up, gasped rather than 
spoke, “ Sir Christopher, Sir Christopher Harden ! 
Is he here? ” 

“ Yea,” came the answer, “ and they hunt him like 
a partridge on the mountain side.” 

The dark eyes of the girl flamed with a hundred 
emotions. She bent forward, and there was bitter 
reproach in her voice. “ And thou hast said noth- 
ing ! And we might have warned him.” 

Burnside answered not, but stood leaning on his 
staff, staring at the ground at his feet. His daugh- 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


21 


ter’s words had struck home, and there came to him 
the vivid memory of a day when the red blood flowed 
like water, when a fierce soldiery were let loose with 
the lust of slaughter on them. There was a sword 
at his throat, and worse than death in store for the 
fair woman who stood beside him, when it was all 
changed, as it were, on the instant, and life and 
honour given back to them by the man who was 
now a hunted outlaw. And so his daughter's voice, 
in its altered mood of pitiful entreaty, smote him 
sorely. 

“ Can we not help him, father? He must not be 

taken! Thou dost remember ” 

“ Yea.” And the old man glanced at Patience 
from beneath his shaggy brows. “ Yea, I can see 
him now, brave, comely and graceful as was Absa- 
lom, but a follower of Ahaz and with a fierce in- 
tonation in his voice, for his conscience was pricked 
within him, he added, “ and what sayeth the law? 
‘ If an eye offend thee, pluck it out.' ” 

“ Thou wouldst judge him, father, even thou?” 
He would not meet her face. “ Nay, I judge not, 
nor do I forget. Hath it not also been written, ‘ skin 
for skin. Yea, all that a man hath will he give for 
his life.' And Harden gave unto us life and honour.” 

And Patience Burnside thought that it were bet- 
ter they had died ere Kit Harden’s comely face had 


22 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


crossed them; but the old man went on as if speak- 
ing to himself: 

“ Tis a debt we can never repay.” 

The woman who loved rose in her again. 
" Would he were safe ! ” she exclaimed, and almost 
on her speech there rang out the blast of a trumpet. 

“ Ah! ” she said. “ What is that? ” 

Burnside shaded his eyes against the glowing sky 
and looked, and Patience followed his glance with 
eager eyes. Neither he nor she saw anything, but 
they knew, and Burnside said: 

“ They are hot in pursuit ! ” And as another and 
a louder blast sent its challenge out, he added, “ If 
they search the Sanctuary he is lost ! ” 

“ The Sanctuary ! Lies Sir Christopher hidden 
there? Art sure? ” 

“Yea! Chance led me there the day we came, 
and I saw him with mine own eyes. He and the 
dead Malignant’s daughter, Dorothy Capel. She 
saw me too, and fled through the green wood like 
a startled fawn.” 

Try as hard as she could, Patience Burnside was 
unable to quite conceal the effect of this announce- 
ment to her. She turned aside for a moment, and 
then, with whitening lips and an unsteady voice, 
hoping against hope, she asked: 

“ Not Lady Dorothy Capel? Not she? ” 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


23 


And even Burnside, old as he was and wrapped 
up in his religion, caught the pain in her tone, and 
a sudden fear went through him for this tall, proud 
girl, who was all in all to him. 

“ Daughter,” he said gravely, his eyes fixed upon 
her face, “ knowest thou not she is his promised 
wife? ” 

But the man does not exist who can sound the 
depth of a woman’s heart. Patience Burnside read 
her father’s thoughts as he spoke, and her face was 
like chiselled marble, as she answered simply: 

“ Nay ! I knew it not.” And then with voice and 
gesture full of sympathy, “We know how he hath 
served us, and Dorothy Capel is young and fair, and 
my heart pleads for them. Oh, ’tis hard! ’Tis 
hard!” 

And tone and manner were such that even a 
better judge of human character than Burnside 
might well have been deceived; and the old Puritan 
felt his suspicions abate, though a barbed arrow 
was deep in his daughter’s heart. 

She had borne this bravely; but worse was to 
come, for even as she stood, she saw, over her 
father’s shoulder, the bushes part, and the face of 
the man she loved before her. It was only a mo- 
mentary glimpse. There was a slight warning 
gesture from Harden, and he was gone. 


24 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


What would have happened next, with the girl’s 
nerves at breaking strain, it is impossible to say, had 
there not been a violent and sudden interruption 
to the scene. Another and loud blast of the trumpet 
rang out, there was a hoarse shouting, and the Iron- 
sides were at hand. For once Patience lost her head, 
and seizing her father’s arm, she called out: 

“ Hasten ! Hasten ! We will save him ! ” 

“ Hasten ! Whither? Lo ! Ebenezer Rock, that 
Joshua of our host, rages through the woods like 
an angry lion, and who shall withstand him? ” 
Patience glanced fearfully at the thickets behind 
her, and wrung her hands in despair. And now 
there came a rush of trampling feet, a crackling of 
the bushes, and half a dozen hot and panting men, 
headed by an under officer, burst in upon the scene. 
One fell heavily as he came out into the open, and 
as he rolled over cursed loudly at the long jack- 
boots that had hindered his progress and brought 
him to the fall. Another, with a flushed face, and 
in a high and excited tone, called out : 

“ Now whither hath the barbarous rebel fled? ” 
“ Lo ! He shall fall before us, even as Elab the 
son of Baasha fell before Zimri,” was the answer 
from yet another grim saint, as he waved his sword 
in the air. 

But the under officer had seen Burnside and his 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


2 5 


daughter. A square built, bulldog-looking man this, 
with a slash across his face he had gotten at New- 
bury. “ Halt ! ” he cried, and following the crisp 
command, he beckoned to the two with his sword, 
saying as he did so, “ Here be a rook and a dove 
together, whom I doubt not I shall coax into caw- 
ing and cooing. Come hither, thou Boanerges, and 
thou, too, my pretty maid ! ” 

A red flush burned on the preacher’s pale cheek. 
The savage was loose on these men he knew, despite 
their scriptural language; and years of war had ren- 
dered them callous to death, whilst running through 
their austere creed was another faith, they were 
themselves not aware of, and that was the worship 
of the great man who had led the New Model from 
victory to victory, till the crowning field of Worces- 
ter had made him King all but in name. And so 
there were times when the bulldog blood ran riot 
in them, and they cast aside all restraint, and thus 
they were on this occasion. 

But Sergeant Tutbury’s speech had stirred the 
Old Adam in Burnside. It was almost an unheard 
of thing that he, a preacher of Saints, should be ad- 
dressed in such manner, and by one of them, too. 
Followed by his daughter he came forward and, 
with uplifted hand and threatening air, said : 

“ Thou man of Ai ! Darest thou use such speech 


26 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


and such manner to me — a minister of the Word! 
Who, and what art thou? ” 

But Tutbury, his bead-like eyes glimmering far 
back in their sockets, answered mockingly: 

“ I am he who was known as Thomas Tutbury, 
but now called amongst men ‘ Hew-Agag-and-De- 
liver-Him-in-Pieces,’ and my law is this good sword 
and the Lord Protector’s commands.” 

But Burnside’s words had had their effect, and 
there was one, too, amongst them whose fierce re- 
ligion still burned hotly within him. With snarling 
lip he turned on his sergeant : 

“ And I, Lie-as-a-Bear-in-Wait-for-the-Heathen, 
who was known as Peter Mauley ere I shed the Old 
Man, tell thee, sergeant, that thou dost wrong to 
raise thy voice against this most worthy and excel- 
lent divine ! ” 

The others listened, and their hearts began to 
misgive them, and there was a sullen murmur, “ ’Tis 
a minister of the Faith, sergeant ! ” 

Tutbury saw that he had gone too far, and he 
knew, too, that the consequences of crossing the 
brown cassock were mostly evil. So he tried to 
make amends in clumsy fashion, though the scowl 
still hung upon his brow. 

“ I ask thy pardon ! My zeal for the Lord Pro- 
tector is my excuse. I seek but to know if thou 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


27 


hast seen ought of Abijam, the son of Reho- 
boam?” 

Burnside would have made some answer, but 
Patience replied demurely : 

“ Of Abijam, the son of Rehoboam? There is 
none such whom we know.” 

“ ’Tis he, lady,” put in one of the troopers, “ the 
Malignant, whom men call Christopher Harden.” 

As he spoke, Peter Mauley began casting about 
and examining the thickets. He was scarce three 
yards from the spot where Harden lay concealed, 
and the girl’s heart faltered; but she nerved herself, 
and almost in the same breath, father and daughter 
answered : 

“No man hath passed this way.” 

And even as they spoke, Mauley’s harsh voice cut 
in upon them: 

“ This grass has been down-trodden, sergeant ! 
Let us search these thickets,” and he struck at the 
underwood, bringing away long strings of bindweed 
and morel, and a branch of thorn. 

Tutbury and the others stepped forward eagerly; 
but Patience interposed. 

“ ’ Twould be time lost. Tis where I stood scarce 
quarter of an hour ago. See, the bitter-sweet crawls 
over the thicket there, and ’twas that I looked 
at!” 


28 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Burnside made no sign nor movement. Tlie men 
stopped and hesitated, and Patience saw her chance. 

“ Hast searched the ruins near the dyke? Or the 
moorland beyond ? They hold many a better hiding- 
place than thorn and bramble.” 

There was truth in the words. The girl’s expla- 
nation was so simple and reasonable that it carried 
conviction with it, and Mauley, with one sharp 
glance at the speaker, suddenly turned back from 
his ferreting amongst the bushes, exclaiming, “ Aye ! 
Aye ! She is right ! ” and Tutbury, after a moment’s 
thought, said: 

“ Thou sayst well, mistress. And there is a thou- 
sand pounds on his head, of which thou wilt get 
thy share for thy help. Mauley! We waste time, 
men, and the evening grows apace. Away, then, 
lest the Moabite escape.” 

And they turned and clattered over the bridge, 
Mauley, in sheer wantonness, blunting the keen 
edge of his sword on the red robin, as he brought 
down clusters of flowers with each slash as he went 
— the last of all; but as he gained the bridge, he 
turned back and looked at the twain standing there, 
with a strange smile on his face, and then he has- 
tened after his fellows. On they went, hot and 
eager, and heard not Patience’ mocking farewell: 
“ Blockheads ! Long mayest thou search.” 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


29 


But even as she spoke a wild idea came to her to 
have speech with Harden at any cost. He was there 
close at hand, and she felt that she must see him 
once more — hear once again the sound of his voice, 
even if it were for the last time. 

She turned to her father, who, throughout this 
scene had stood, leaning on his staff, glowering at 
the turf at his feet. If she could be free of him, if 
only for a little, she would get speech with Harden, 
and learn the yea or nay of the story she had 
heard about Dorothy Capel. That Harden was still 
in his hiding-place she felt, and so, with a quick im- 
pulsiveness, she turned to Burnside. 

“ Go, father,” she said; “ haste to the Sanctuary, 
and warn Sir Christopher that these men have been 
put on the wrong track; he may escape yet.” 

He looked up heavily at her. His zeal for the 
cause and his gratitude to the man whom the lead- 
ers of that cause had doomed to death were strug- 
gling within him. He had remained silent whilst 
Patience had put off Tutbury and his men. Though 
he was not sure of it, and did not quite understand, 
he felt in some indefinite way that this was being 
done, and he had allowed her to carry out her pur- 
pose; but to actively assist in Harden’s escape was 
a step that made the zealot hesitate. 

“ This is against my duty,” he said, and as memory 


30 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


of the scene in the past came back to him, he wav- 
ered. “ Yet what do we not owe him? ” 

But Patience hardly heard his answer. “ Oh, tarry 
not ! ” she exclaimed. “ Each moment is as gold. 
Thou knowest each path within these woods, and 
there is none who will suspect thee or thy mission. 
Plasten, then; I will await thee here.” 

“ My duty? ” 

“ Oh, duty in an hour like this ! ” And she turned 
on him almost fiercely. “ But a moment ago thou 
saidst we could never repay our debt. Father! 
wouldst hand him to the death? ” 

Her hand was resting on his shoulder, her eyes 
blazing into his face, entreaty and command in them, 
and he faltered. For a moment he resisted and 
strove within himself, but there was a strange com- 
pelling power in the dark glance that was fixed upon 
him, and — he yielded. 

“ Ay ! ” he said, “ thou art right. He shall be 
saved. Rest here till I return.” 

And without more speech he turned and passed 
down the little path, walking at a pace that would 
have been thought impossible for one of his years. 

Patience was alone at last. But now that she had 
gained her point she made no further effort. She 
did not dare look behind her at the thickets where 
Harden lay hidden. She began to tremble, and her 


A MAN WHO LOVES 


3i 


limbs failed her so that she sank down on the fallen 
trunk and sat there shivering, her face buried within 
her hands. 

Who shall tell what thoughts were running 
through the girl’s heart, what memories were awake 
within her? She had been wronged — as bitterly 
wronged as any woman had ever been, but woman- 
like she loved Harden still; vet it was with a love 
fierce and passionate, that could kill rather than lose. 
It must be all or nothing with her. And so she sat, 
her burning face within her hands, whilst the bushes 
behind her parted noiselessly, and Kit Harden 
stepped forth. 


CHAPTER III 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 

At the touch of his hand on her shoulder, she 
sprang up and faced him, shaking in every limb. 

“ Sir Christopher ! What madness brings you 
here? ” 

He laughed in his gay, reckless way. 

“ Madness indeed! Tore God! that scoundrelly 
Roundhead's blade passed within an inch of me; 
but — ” he took her hands, and looked straight into 
her eyes, as he added, “ Sir Christopher ! Why so 
cold a greeting? Why not Kit as in the old days, 
sweet? ” 

She had been wronged by this man, she had been 
slighted by him, and now he was back again at her 
feet, wooing her as in old days. She -could forgive 
him the wrong; but the slight — never! All her 
proud and jealous heart rose within her; the fair 
face of Dorothy Capel seemed to hover near her. 
No! She could not forgive. A mist came before 
her eyes. She tried to steady herself, and with a 
32 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


33 


quick, rapid effort, she freed herself from his grasp. 
“ Cruel/’ she gasped. “ Those days are past. 
Would they had never been ! ” 

He was watching her as a cat would a mouse. 
There was not a pang of remorse, not one thought 
of pity in that heart of steel; but no true lover could 
ever have put more tenderness in his voice, or made 
his eyes shine with the love-light as Harden did. 

“ You would forget me? ” he asked. 

She made no answer. All power of speech had 
left her, and she stood, her face half averted from 
him, tall and white as a lily. 

“ I see ! ” he went on bitterly. “ A very woman 
after all! Well finish it! Call to your Round- 
heads ! I will not seek escape. Life is of no value 
to me without your love — but you have never loved 
me.” 

Every word went home; but the last words stirred 
her to the deeps. Wave after wave of memory swept 
over her soul, lightning-like in their speed. He had 
been the hero of her girl’s heart; and she had laid 
on the altar of that hero-worship all the treasures 
of her love. Up to a moment ago she believed in 
him still, when her father’s chance speech swept 
away, as with a wind, the card-castle she had built. 
But for one thing she could yet forgive him all — 
but not that ! She turned upon him quick and pas- 


34 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


sionate, and yet there was most pitiful suffering in 
her voice. 

“Never loved you? Oh, Harden! Dare you 
say that? And you — what have you done?” 

The beautiful, sorrow-stricken eyes were full upon 
him, burning with love and mute reproach. For a 
moment even Harden’s front of brass was pierced, 
and he stood abashed, playing with the hilt of his 
sword. For once the hawk’s eye fell, and his fore- 
head flushed with shame. A new feeling, something 
that he did not realise, awoke within him. 

“ I — I — ” he stammered, but she broke in upon 
his speech, pouring out her heart. 

“ You have taken from me all that a woman holds 
dear. You have made my life a living lie — a living 
lie, I say ! Oh, the shame of it ! The sin of it ! I 
think and think until my brain is on fire, and I could 
kill myself — but I dare not ! I dare not ! ” 

He had done all this, and other things besides. 
He cursed himself in thought for the reckless mood 
that had made him seek speech with her once more. 

“ Hear me ! ” 

But she would not listen. She could not. 

“ Man ! ” she said, “ are you made of steel? Have 
you no heart? How can you come before me with 
another’s kisses on your lips? ” 

The wine was bitter drinking, but in a flash it 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


35 


came to him all. She loved him still; but somehow 
she had heard of Dorothy Capel, and there was no 
knowing to what lengths a jealous woman could 
go, and such a woman as Patience. He was in her 
power; a word from her, and he was lost. The little 
spark of feeling that flickered for a moment in his 
callous heart died away, and it was Harden for 
Harden again. Hemmed in though he was on all 
sides, there was still a chance, and Coombe Royal 
might yet be his if he played his cards well. He rose 
to the very difficulty of the thing. He could have 
easily cajoled Dorothy Capel; but here it Was a very 
different matter. His quick brain saw all this in a 
flash, and with that inimitable assurance that be- 
longed to him alone he recovered himself. 

“ What is your meaning? ” he asked, and then, 
as if a light had broken upon him, “ Ah ! I guess ! 
Foolish child! Old Capel’s daughter is no more 
to me than the leaves upon these trees. I swear to 
you — ’tis you and you alone I love. Are you so 
hard? Are you so unforgiving? Have you such 
little trust? ” 

“ Trust ! And in you? ” But for all the bitter re- 
proach in her voice, Harden read her aright. He 
winced at the scorn and contempt in her tone; but 
he knew that in her heart of hearts she loved him 
yet, with all the love a woman may bear a man. 


36 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

“ Oh ! ” he exclaimed, “ this is hard to bear. 
I am beggared, penniless, hunted to death, yet I 
thought there was one who cared for me — one 
whom I loved — one whom I, like the poor fool man 
is, dared to think loved me! Ah, dear! Cannot 
you believe? Do you not know there is no one 
but you ” 

He was playing on her pity as well as her love. 
He heard her breath come and go, and a sob catch 
in her throat. She was wavering, and if Harden 
could but calm that jealous sea within her heart, 
even for a few days, all might yet be well. 

“ Listen ! ” he began, as he approached a pace 
nearer to her; but as if with a last effort she broke 
out : 

“ No, no; I will not hear you. Go, I say. There 
is danger here. Go, for your own sake if not for 
mine.” 

“ I cannot go now. I cannot go leaving you to 
think me the vilest of men. There is no word of 
truth in the story you have heard. Lady Capel is 
for the king, as I am; and she has but aided and 
sheltered me, as she and hers have aided and shel- 
tered others.” 

“ If I could believe ! ” 

“ Ah, jealous heart ! Listen ! There is but one 
chance for me, and that is in Dorothy Capel’s help. 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


37 


I am ringed in, and but for her my life is not worth 
the throw of a copper. My hiding-place here is 
being searched; but I will seek Coombe Royal to- 
night. I shall be safe there, and with the morrow 
leave England for ever.” 

“ For ever? ” 

“ Ay, for ever. But, sweet ! there is that in your 
eyes beyond the anger in them that bids me hope 
yet. And I — I have hungered to see you, to feel 
the touch of your hand, to hear the sound of your 
voice. I have risked almost all for a word with you 
this evening, and the luck of Harden follows me, 
and I will escape yet. Come with me; there’s many 
a brave gentleman carving a fortune for himself in 
Poland, and in Muscovy. We will go there out of 
this land of sorrows. Come — my wife ! ” 

He had played his last card with all his skill, and 
as their eyes met he saw that in her look which told 
him he had won. 

“ My dear ! My dear,” he said, and drew her 
towards him. She said nothing, but clung close to 
him. All doubt had vanished with his words, and 
she trusted once again as woman has done before, 
and ever will. 

But grim reality was at hand. As they stood they 
heard the distant beat of galloping hoofs rapidly 
approaching nearer and nearer, until there came to 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


38 

them the dull, heavy thud that a horse makes when 
going over turf. As the ominous sound approached, 
Patience sprang back. 

“ You hear that? Fly ! Fly ! ” 

Harden turned to go; but even as he did so Burn- 
side appeared at the head of the glade, hot and 
breathless. It was well for the old man that he had 
not arrived a moment sooner, and well for Harden 
too. “ ’Tis useless; ’tis in vain,” he began, and then 
his eyes fell upon Harden. What he would have 
said, however, was checked by Patience. With pas- 
sionate eagnerness she turned to Harden. 

“ Go! We will detain them. I swear we will.” 

Harden gave one quick glance around, and slipped 
into the forest. No lumbering, heavy jack-boot 
tread was his; but, light and agile as a leopard, he 
was gone in a flash. 

He had not gone a moment too soon. Scarce 
had the wood closed over him than a party of about 
a dozen horsemen came round a sharp turn of the 
glade, and made straight towards Burnside and his 
daughter. 

They had but time to exchange a word and a 
glance together, when the leading horseman rode 
up and reined in, the others halting as he did. 

It was Colonel Maunsell himself, the grim leader 
of horse, whose name was a terror to the Royalists. 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


39 


Tall — very tall — the sombre attire he affected, and 
the great black charger he rode, together with his 
dark hair and sun-tanned features, more, than ac- 
counted for the soubriquet he had gained. There 
was not one, however, who marked the firm, steady 
glance of his eye, or the high resolve that sat upon 
his face who could not but think that here .was a 
man who was incapable of a mean action, whatever 
his faults might be — and the times were such that 
men did not sin in a peddling way. 

He had reined in a few feet away from Patience 
and Burnside, both of whom were known to him by 
sight, and, saluting gravely, was about to make an 
inquiry, when Patience put in: 

“ Sir, my father goes to preach the Word. Will 
not you come to hear him? ” 

“ Ay ! ” said Burnside. “ Come, the Truth swells 
within me.” 

Those swiftly spoken words — that glance ex- 
changed between father and daughter as Maunsell 
rode up were bearing fruit. They were resolved to 
stay him at all costs, and Burnside for a moment 
forgot the zealot in the man, and, taking the cue 
his daughter gave him, played his part bravely. 

A frown came on Maunsell’s brow. 

“ Nay,” he said shortly, “ we have other work. 
This is no time.” 


40 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ And such work — thine own kinsman ! ” 

It was Patience who spoke, in tones so low that 
Maunsell alone heard. Their dark eyes flashed at 
each other for a moment, bitter scorn in the look 
of the girl, anger and astonishment in that of the 
man. The frown deepened on his face, and he was 
about to say something, when there was a crashing 
in the thickets, and Peter Mauley, who had been 
making a cast back, came out, flourishing a lace- 
edged kerchief on the point of his sword. The 
fanatic appeared almost beside himself with excite- 
ment, and as he came up, shouted : 

“ Lo ! I, Lie-as-a-Bear-in-Wait-for-the-Heathen, 
say that the rebel follower of Jehoram lies under our 
hands. Seest thou this toy! Pheugh! ’Tis rank 
with the perfumes of the Moabites. I found it here 
amongst the brambles. ,, Maunsell had sprung from 
his horse as the man came up, and called to him, but 
Patience with a smile on her face exclaimed : 

“ Tis miner 

“ Thine, lady? ” said Mauley, hesitating, as he 
stood with uplifted sword, and then MaunseH’s 
grave, quiet tones cut in: 

“ Lower thy sword, Mauley!” And as the 
trooper did so, he took the kerchief from the point, 
and held it for a moment in his hands. As his 
glance rested on it, his face became graver and 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


4i 


sterner, and he looked up again at Patience, who 
stood with parted lips and hand half outstretched. 
His piercing glance almost read into her soul; but 
there was something, too, stirring within his heart. 
That low whisper, “ thine own kinsman ! ” which 
had caught his ears alone, seemed to repeat itself 
and to waken with it the ghosts of long dead mem- 
ories. There was a time when these two had been 
closer than brothers, until one day the mask fell 
from Harden, and the other knew him to be what 
he was. The stern face grew darker and darker, 
the frown on his forehead deepened. All around 
was a dead silence, which was only broken by 
Patience faltering once more : 

“ It is mine!” 

There was one swift glance of the dark eyes, and 
then without a word Black Antony Maunsell lifted 
his hat, and handed the kerchief to her, but as he 
did so, and caught the flash of joy in her look, he 
muttered under his beard, “ Can Harden spare noth- 
ing? ” 

He had guessed enough to make him understand 
the little play before him. It mattered little who 
held the scented rag he had given Patience. He 
knew now that Harden was near, and that although 
the girl screened him — he did not for one moment 
associate Burnside with this — his hand would soon 


42 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


close on his man. There could be no escape from 
him now, and a sudden anger rose within him — 
anger at himself at the thought of his momentary 
weakness, when Patience Burnside’s whispered 
taunt had gone home. Kinsman or not, Kit Harden 
was a dead man if Black Tony crossed his path. 

And now chance, or fate, call it what you will, 
gave father and daughter another opportunity to 
detain the pursuers. Mauley, who had watched the 
return of the kerchief with exceeding dissatisfaction, 
and who stood yet in seeming doubt and hesitation, 
turned to Burnside and asked with a suspicious leer : 

“And thou hast in truth seen nothing of him 
whom we search?” 

Burnside’s pale face flushed; but Patience came 
to the rescue. 

“ Thou hast already been answered, man ! Delay 
us no more ! My father goes to preach the Word.” 

And Maunsell* who was still sore within him as 
he turned to mount, said roughly : 

“ Preach it to the trees there, Master Burnside. 
This eve there is no soul to hear thee.” 

Patience had thought that all that could be done 
had been done to give Harden time, and now an 
unseen power had, as it were, dropped from heaven 
to her aid, and played the rest of her hand for her. 
Maunsell’s rough speech stung Burnside to the 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


43 


quick. All the fierce zeal in the old man’s heart 
flamed up, and he was in a moment as red hot a 
fanatic as ever took his part in those stirring days. 
He forgot all about Harden. 

He thought only of the Word that had been 
scorned, and advancing with flashing eyes and up- 
lifted hand, he gave back scorn for scorn. 

“ Ay!” he said. “Thou sayest well! A Voice 
hath before now been heard in the wilderness, and 
this eve these drear woodlands shall hear it again. 
And thou Antony Maunsell, who hath grown great 
in the land, go thou thy ways ! Yet, mind ye ! what 
the Lord hath given, that can He take from thee, 
proud man ! But there are those here who will stay, 
for it is not I who will speak, but the Voice within 
me, and it calls unto them, the faithful of our Hosts.” 

With a low cry of joy Patience turned to her 
father, only to grasp in a moment that this was no 
play acting, but a reality strong and passionate, and 
that what had happened was to bring them more 
powerful help than she had ever dreamed of. Maun- 
sell heard him through, his foot resting in his stirrup. 
What answer he might have made no one can tell; 
but the words of the preacher had gone home to the 
Saints, and there were deep murmurs of “ The 
Voice! The Voice!” 

“ A truce to this foolery ! ” exclaimed Maunsell, 


44 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


and springing into the saddle he gave a quick order 
to his men to move off; but for once the bands 
of discipline were loosed, and no man stirred from 
his place. There was a clanking of scabbards, a 
jingle of bits, and a slight swaying movement in 
the troop; but for once no man obeyed his leader. 

“ By God ! ’’ he began furiously, “ there are trai- 
tors here.” 

“ And thou a traitor to thy God ! ” 

Burnside’s voice, high and shrill, broke in upon 
his speech. Like some prophet of Scripture, the 
old man stood before him, his white hair stream- 
ing in the wind, his burning eyes, with all the fire 
of ecstasy in them, shining from out his pallid face. 
And now there was a sustained and uneasy move- 
ment in the troop, and Mauley’s harsh voice rang 
out: 

“ I thirst ! And my spirit is dry within me ! ” 

The effect was electrical. In one moment every 
man had sprung from his saddle and crowded round 
Burnside; there was a waving of swords, and a deep, 
hoarse cry: 

“The Word! The Word we heard at Nazeby 
and at Worcester ! ” 

The splendour of the sunset covered them as with 
a mantle of gold. It burned blood red upon the 
hoary tree trunks. For a single glittering moment 


THE LUCK OF HARDEN 


45 


the uplifted blades flashed as the flaming swords of 
the seraphim, then down they sank in one bright 
ray as they were lowered, and with bowed heads 
the grim troopers of a hundred fields stood to listen. 
The fever of the thing caught Maunsell also, and 
as Burnside began in low, solemn tones, he, too, 
dismounted, and, hat in hand, stood reverently, a 
little apart from the rest, leaning on the hilt of his 
sword. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 

It was close upon noon on the very day on which 
the events already narrated occurred, that Colonel 
Antony Maunsell was pacing the terrace at Coombe 
Royal, lost in thought. Barely a week had passed 
since he had come there as master, armed with the 
authority of the Lord Protector, and the Ordinance 
of the Lords and Commons, for sequestrating the 
estates of notorious Malignants. As Worcester’s 
broad lands had gone to Cromwell himself after 
Waller’s plot had failed, as Hardenholt was already 
his, so also was Coombe Royal in the hollow of his 
hand, and Maunsell was in truth great in the land. 
He stopped for a moment and gazed before him. 
All seemed at peace, and yet, behind the high holly 
hedge that skirted the lawn, where the peacocks 
were basking and preening themselves on the thick 
soft turf, he caught the sunlight shining on the mus- 
ket-barrel of a sentry, and now and again the fitful 
wind brought him a hoarse command, and the clink- 
ing of bits and the clatter of hoofs, as the troop, 

46 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


47 


which he was to lead that afternoon, to patrol the 
countryside, formed up at the hall door, awaiting 
their leader. Straight in front of him the skirts of 
Coombe Forest rested on the low hills to the west, 
and there the marches of Hardenholt began, and 
both were his — a princely domain. And yet there 
was a spider in the Colonel’s rose. He pulled at his 
black moustache, and was about to resume his walk 
when a heavy footfall arrested his attention, and, 
turning sharply round, he saw his cornet approach- 
ing. 

In his youth Cornet Ebenezer Rock had been a 
shepherd of the dales; but the sound of the trumpet 
had reached even there, and he had followed it, as 
others had done, and gone forth to strange lands. 
He was now a veteran soldier, who had seen war in 
the Low Countries, and trailed a pike behind Ber- 
nard of Weimar in the terrors of the Thirty Years’ 
War. He was tall, almost as tall as his colonel, and 
lean as a rail, but strong as whipcord. When the 
war-storm burst over his own country he had come 
back to England, and then, as he was wont to say, 
the scales fell from his eyes, and he stood face to 
face with the Lord. It is needless to say which side 
he took. It was such as he who formed the back- 
bone of the New Model. Good soldier though he 
was, Rock was in many things simple as a child, and 


43 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


despite his forbidding appearance, which was en- 
hanced by the black patch he wore to cover an eye 
lost at Dunbar, he had an honest heart. It was 
whispered that, though in other respects the bravest 
of the brave, there was one thing he feared, and tha«t 
was a woman. Certain it is that the Cornet had no 
commune with the sex beyond looking sourly at 
them, and giving them the road with marked em- 
phasis when occasion arose, and the rustle of a skirt 
was sufficient to make him beat a retreat when per- 
haps the best sword in England would have failed. 
Such was the man who now saluted his Colonel, and 
made his report for the day. 

When it was over Maunsell asked, “ And still no 
news of Harden? ” 

“ None, except that he lieth concealed; but that 
will not be for long.” 

And then there was a moment’s silence. Maun- 
sell tugged at his moustache, and the Cornet looked 
straight to his front, a stony stare in his one eye. 
There was evidently something that neither wished 
to broach first; but the Cornet was immovable as 
marble, and the Colonel spoke. 

“ And have all my orders been carried out to the 
letter, Cornet? ” 

“ Yes, Colonel. All roads are watched. Sergeant 
Tutbury searches the woods. My troop is ready, 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


49 


and but await orders. I myself keep ward over the 
house and park.” 

The Cornet spoke rapidly, like a child repeating 
a lesson by rote, but he had avoided the real point. 
It was, however, pressed upon him. 

“ And my instructions in regard to Lady Capel? ” 

“ That she was not to quit the house until further 
orders? ” 

“ Yes, yes! ” 

“ This has been conveyed to her.” 

“ By you, Cornet? ” 

Rock hesitated, and then replied, “ No, Colonel. 
But by a sure hand.” 

“ Rock ! ” thundered the Colonel, “ Didst send 
the message by a trooper? If so ” 

“ No, no!” Rock put in hastily; “but by a 
sure hand. I am but a blunt soldier, and so I 
thought ” 

“ You would get someone else to bell the cat,” 
said the Colonel forcibly, and Rock’s one eye flashed 
fire. He held himself still, however, whilst his com- 
mander continued: 

“ Well, after all, perhaps, there is no ill done, and 
I myself will take care my message is understood. 
Go, now ! I will take out the patrol myself shortly.” 

Rock saluted and was about to turn on his heel 
when Maunsell checked him. 


50 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ Stay, there is news of import. His Highness 
will himself be here shortly. His health hath been 
bad of late, and the air of Coombe is good; in short, 
he may be here at any moment. See that all is ready 
for his reception.” 

“ The Lord General ! ” and Rock’s eye lit with 
joy. “ Yea, it will be as manna to the chosen to see 
him once again. All will be ready, Colonel, fear 
not.” 

And saluting once more, the Cornet marched off, 
leaving his colonel still standing, glowering in front 
of him so for a little, and then he burst out, with a 
gesture in the direction Rock had taken: 

“ And I accused him of getting some one to bell 
the cat. I asked him to do what I feared — yes, 
feared is the word, Antony Maunsell. At eight and 
thirty you fear to face a girl of twenty, and tremble 
at her very look. What fever hath seized thee? ” 

He stopped for a moment, and then burst out, 
“ ’Tis a dog’s business this, and I will have no more 
of it.” 

With this he walked across the terrace with rapid 
steps, and entering the house, sought his apart- 
ments. To do so he had to walk along a corridor, 
lined on each side with suits of armour and frayed 
and tattered banners, and as his measured tread 
awoke the echoes there, it seemed as if his presence 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


5i 


had brought back the spirits of the dead knights of 
Capel to fill once more their mail, and that from 
every vizor there flashed at him eyes that burned 
with wrath and hatred. 

He halted for a moment at his own door and 
looked back. The silence was intense. In all that 
vast building it was as if the chill of death had fallen. 
As he looked down the dim corridor the figure of 
a woman flitted across it at the extreme end. It 
was just a momentary glimpse of a graceful, swift- 
moving figure that he caught, but Maunsell felt his 
blood flame through him, and he made a half step 
forwards, and then checked himself. 

“ Tush,” he said, “ a servant maid ! ” and without 
more ado he entered his room. There was a table 
near the window, the papers on it arranged in a 
neat and orderly manner. Maunsell glanced at it 
and then at the French horologe on the wall. 

“ I can spare an hour yet,” he said, and then 
seated himself at his desk. 

Unlocking a leather despatch case, he took there- 
from a document and glanced over it. It contained 
his instructions, written in a strong, firm hand, brief, 
clear and incisive orders, and as the Colonel’s eye ran 
down the page he seemed to feel the very presence 
of the Lord General of England. 

“ Ay,” he muttered, “ they must be obeyed — to 
the letter.” 


52 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


He put down the paper and took up another care- 
fully fastened up, and as he opened it he frowned. 

“ Willis’ passport, the safe-conduct out of Eng- 
land for Monsieur Falaise. Why not Monsieur 
Mouchard or Monsieur Espion? Bah, the very 
sight of the traitor’s name sickens me. I see it bears 
an open date, and Willis is to receive it from my 
own hands. Well, let him come. This will keep 
for him.” And Antony Maunsell knew not then 
that Willis the traitor and spy, the man who sold 
the secrets of his master the King, had at last lost 
the rubber he was playing, and was lying dead in 
London town, with a broken rapier in his false heart. 
So he kept the safe-conduct, which found its use 
hereafter. 

The Colonel put back the papers in their case, 
and then, after a moment’s reflection, began to write 
himself; but before he had penned six words he tore 
up the paper and flung it aside. 

It was his intention to convey to Lady Dorothy 
Capel Cromwell’s wish that she was for the present 
to consider herself practically a prisoner in her own 
house. As we know, Lady Dorothy was aware of 
this already; in fact, Rock had, through the medium 
of one Gideon Sims, a farm bailiff on the estate, 
whom Rock hoped to enlist, for he was a man of 
thews, conveyed his chief’s orders to Lady Dorothy, 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


53 


whom they reached through her maid, Polly Maple, 
and of a surety they had been bravely added to and 
edited before Polly Maple gave them to her mis- 
tress. 

Maunsell anticipated no very great difficulty in 
carrying out his intention; but by the time half a 
dozen sheets of paper had been torn up, and the 
points of as many quills destroyed, he began to 
realise what it meant; and in doing so he began to 
realise another thing also, and something akin to 
despair seized upon the strong man. 

It was seven years since he had last seen Dorothy 
Capel, a lanky girl of thirteen, and when a week ago, 
he, for the first time during that interval, met her, 
he had in his mind the picture of the past, so that 
at first he could hardly realise that the child and the 
woman were one and the same. 

The meeting, too, had been one of bitterness and 
scorn on the side of Dorothy. This was to be ex- 
pected. Yet her high courage and her unflinching 
loyalty but added to the feelings which her beauty 
had inspired at the outset, unknown to himself, in 
the heart of the soldier; and now he realised for the 
.first time what it was to love, and the disease is bad 
when it takes a man in his prime. 

Suspense was intolerable, unendurable. It came 
to him with a rush to put his fate to the touch, and 


54 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


hear from her the yea or nay that would make or 
mar his happiness. He sprang from his chair, and 
began to pace the room in the restless habit he had 
acquired of late. 

Finally he halted abruptly before an old Italian 
mirror, in a frame of silver filagree work, and what 
he saw there did not inspire him with confidence. 

“ Black Antony Maunsell they call you,” he said 
with a harsh laugh that rang strangely through the 
room, “ and you dare hope — you.” 

Clang! Clang! 

He started like a guilty thing at the sound, and 
swung round. It was the little gilded jacquemart 
in the horologe that struck the hour, and it brought 
him to the moment. The time had passed like a 
dream. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he 
walked back to the table and began to write. This 
time there was no hesitation. But it was not Crom- 
well’s order that he conveyed to Dorothy. He 
wrote of himself, and for himself. He said what he 
had to say in a few brief, manly words, and then, 
addressing the letter, sealed it carefully, and holding 
it in his hand, came forth from his room. 

Along the hall and down the wide steps that led 
to the drive he went. Here his troop, which had 
been patiently waiting, came to attention as he ap- 
peared, and his black charger, almost asleep until 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


55 


now, began to paw and fret impatiently for the 
coming gallop. Once in the saddle, Maunsell turned 
to a trooper and handed him the note. 

“ For Lady Capel,” he said. “ See that it reaches 
her without fail, Hopkins.” 

“Any answer, Colonel?” asked Hopkins as he 
saluted. 

“ No ! Stay — yes ! There might be.” And 
despite himself the Colonel felt the blood throbbing 
in his temples. “ If there is one,” he said, “ keep it 
until my return — you need not bring it to me. We 
might miss each other else.” 

Then a sharp order to his men, and they were 
trotting down the drive to the park gates, leaving 
Hopkins gazing somewhat ruefully after them. 

But presently his small blue eyes brightened, and 
he chuckled to himself as he led his horse back to the 
stables. He was, in truth, rejoicing at the hours of 
spare time he would have on his hands, and of the 
opportunity he had of getting speech with pretty 
Polly Maple, for there had been an old understand- 
ing between them which the wars had put an end 
to for the time. So, the horse being unsaddled and 
made comfortable in his stall, Hopkins went back 
to the house with his letter. He had no intention 
of delivering it to anyone except Dorothy herself, 
or to Mistress Maple, and first sought the servants' 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


56 

hall to seek for Polly. He waited some little time, 
but she did not appear, and Hopkins came forth 
determined to bide his opportunity; and besides, the 
servants’ hall was no comfortable place, for the tone 
of it was given by Mistress Battersby, the house- 
keeper, and a chill seemed to fall over the place on 
his entrance. 

So out he went from that freezing atmosphere, 
and began to wander through the corridors of the 
vast and silent house, until he reached the west wing, 
and came to what was called “ The Ladies’ Gallery,” 
from the portraits of fair dames that adorned its 
walls. At the extreme end of this was a curtained 
doorway, the door half open. 

Hopkins hesitated for a moment. The door, he 
knew, led to Lady Dorothy’s apartments; but as he 
stopped, in doubt as to whether to proceed or turn 
back, he heard a cheerful voice singing, and his face 
broadened into a joyful smile. “ My lady is out,” 
he drawled to himself, “ ’tis Polly”; and without 
more ado he went forwards. 

The Blue Room at Coombe Royal was Dorothy 
Capel’s own boudoir, and it was here that Polly 
Maple, her maid and foster-sister, awaited her mis- 
tress’s return. 

Through all the wide country from Coombe to 
the vale of Hardenholt, there was no maid with 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


57 


brighter eyes or rosier cheeks than Polly Maple, and 
this, in truth, was well known to herself. She could 
not count her suitors on the fingers of her pretty 
hands, but she played them off rarely one against 
the other, for Polly was not yet inclined to sur- 
render the freedom of her girlhood. And yet she 
was not heart-whole. There was an old memory 
of one who now wore a soldier’s breastplate, that 
came back often with an insistent force, but Polly 
brushed the thought of him away as a fly, and 
stepped into the wide embrasure of the bow win- 
dow which lit the room, and gave access from a low 
balcony to the garden beyond. There she stood 
for a little, staring into the distance; but there was 
no sign of Dorothy, and with a little sigh Polly 
turned back, and, pulling together the heavy folds 
of a curtain covering a lancet arch that led into a 
bedroom beyond, began to arrange the little trifles 
scattered here and there about the room. Half un- 
consciously she began to sing, but the very sound 
of her own voice startled her. All was still and silent 
in the great house since the visitation had fallen upon 
them, and with this came the hot anger of a faithful 
retainer. 

“ It is shameful ! ” she burst out. “ A prisoner in 
her own house! And that Colonel Maunsell — 
ugh! ” and she shuddered. “ He gives me a chill 


53 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


with his cold airs. Not like Sir Kit ! but a 4 Do this/ 
and a 4 Do that ’ as if he were Old Noll himself. He 
hath the evil eye, too, Gideon says, and he must 
needs bring here that sour-looking, one-eyed cornet, 
with his long-faced, psalm-singing, crop-haired Iron- 
sides — ugh ! ” 

And then the thought of the breastplate, and of 
him who wore it, came back to her, and she stamped 
her little foot with anger. 

44 And Job Hopkins, too, among them ! He that 
hath turned traitor to the King ! " She turned round 
sharply as she spoke, and her self-reflections ended 
in a half-suppressed scream, for Job himself was 
standing before her, stiff as a pike. 

Polly recovered herself in a moment. 

44 La! Is’t thou, Job Hopkins? ” 

And redolent of the Puritan snuffle came back the 
answer, 44 Job Hopkins in the days of his darkness, 
mistress, but now, a brand plucked from the burn- 
ing, behold Justified-by-Faith Hopkins, trooper in 
the Lord General's horse, whom the Gentiles call the 
Ironsides, and who are as a spur to the flank of the 
Philistines." 

Polly looked at him as he drawled out his speech. 
He was a fine man withal, and the cuirass on his 
broad breast shone like silver. She would bring 
him to heel again for all his new robe of sanctity, 


THE LITTLE GOD’S ARROW 


59 


and so she made him a bob-curtsey, and, imitating 
his manner, with her hands on the pockets of her 
apron, she drawled back : 

“ Well, Master Spur-to-the-Flank-of-the-Philis- 
tine, or whatever you call yourself, what is your busi- 
ness here?” And with a sudden change of man- 
ner, “ I mind the time that Job Hopkins, the keeper’s 

son, would never have dared ” 

For a moment Job was taken aback. “ Mistress 

Maple ” he began, speaking naturally; but she 

cut in upon him with her mocking drawl : 

“ Master — ahem — Justified : by-Faith Hopkins ! ” 
She was certainly a very pretty girl, and all the 
prettier as she stood there gibing at him. It was 
three years since the Word had come to Job, and 
he had put aside the past as he thought, all except 
one relic that he never dared to look upon. And 
now all that past had come back to him in the few 
days he had been back again in his own country. 
He was a man after all, and undoubtedly Polly had 
grown prettier than ever. His far-set blue eyes 
twinkled with a new light. He gave a hasty glance 
behind him. There was no one looking, and, taking 
heart of grace, he made a step forwards. 

“ Polly ! ” he said. 

“ Mistress Maple, an’t please thee,” was the icy 
answer, and Job stood checked. 


6o 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ I — I was saying ” he stammered, and then 

stopped. 

“ What? ” asked Polly sharply. 

“ ’Tis a fine afternoon,” he blurted out, and Polly’s 
white teeth showed for a moment under her red 
lips. 

There was a little silence. Job’s face got redder 
and redder, and Polly half turned from him, and 
began arranging the flowers. 

At last he stammered, “ Hast forgotten me, lass? ” 


CHAPTER V 

THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 

With provoking calmness, the girl gave a finish- 
ing touch to her flowers, as she replied carelessly: 

“ I mind me Job Hopkins, the keeper’s son at 
Hardenholt, an honest King’s man, and no Round- 
head,” and then with a sudden softening, as she saw 
him wince under her speech, she added, “ I remem- 
ber breaking a penny with him for luck — and — and 
— I have my half still.” 

“ And I mine.” With a step forwards, and a light 
in his eye, Hopkins was by her side, as he went on, 
“ Dost remember, lass, those evenings three years 
back? ” 

Clearly, he was not one of those to whom an inch 
might be given. Polly put herself on the other side 
of the low table, and answered with a gibing snuffle : 

“ Recall not the days of thy darkness, master 
trooper! ” 

It was too much for Hopkins. “ Let them come 
again ! ” he exclaimed recklessly, and slipping boldly 
61 


62 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


up to Polly, tried to snatch a kiss. All this was as 
it should be; still Polly resisted with proper maid- 
enly modesty; but Hopkins’ arm was strong, if 
gentle, in its encircling fold around her waist, and 
at last, with a faint “ Leave go! ” she yielded. 

For a moment Hopkins hesitated, and in that 
moment, by evil hap, Mistress Battersby, the house- 
keeper, entered the room, and stood in speechless 
anger and astonishment at the sight. 

Job took a sounding kiss. “ ’Tis a carnal sin,” he 
muttered, “ but ” 

“ Thou graceless minx ! ” 

Had a bolt from the blue fallen upon them the 
guilty couple could not have been more astonished. 
They flew apart like lightning, and Polly, red as a 
peony, stood fumbling with the pockets of her apron, 
whilst Job shuffled about uneasily, staring from one 
to the other with a shamefaced grin upon him. 

Mistress Battersby glared at them, a very dragon 
in her righteous anger. There was no escape for the 
culprits. They were caught red-handed, and after a 
moment’s pause, the housekeeper turned once more 
on Polly. 

“ Thou graceless minxJ ” she repeated; “ yester- 
day ’twas Gideon, the bailiff.” 

“ He only ” stammered Polly, whilst Job’s 

far-set eyes began to glimmer like those of an angry 


THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 63 

boar; but Mistress Battersby went on pitilessly, 
“ and this very morning did I not see thee in the 
gallery with the Cornet Rock? ” 

“ Rock ! ” Job could hardly believe his ears; but 
he turned a jealous and accusing eye on Polly. 

“ Yes, young man ” — and Mistress Battersby 
turned on Hopkins, with an affectation of pity in 
her voice — “ I am sorry for thee, for thou wert an 
honest fellow once. ,, 

Polly’s cheeks paled from red to white, and 
flushed red again with hot anger. The implication 
in the last charge was unfounded, and as false as it 
was malicious. It was true that the Cornet and Polly 
had met in the gallery, but the former had squeezed 
himself against the wall to let her pass, whilst Polly 
had tripped by him with a scornful toss of her head. 
And to think that she should be accused of a flirta- 
tion with that one-eyed horror ! Polly bit her lips, 
and then an inspiration came to her, and with ready 
wit she made attack for attack. With well-pre- 
tended confusion, she replied hastily : 

“ The Cornet but gave me a message for thee, 
Mistress. I did in truth forget it, nor can I recall 
it now 1 ” 

“ Thou addlepate ! ” 

“ Ah, I remember,” and, careless of further con- 
sequences, Polly continued, “ He said his heart was 


64 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


breaking for love of thee. Hast any answer for me 
to bear? ” 

So swift and sudden was the attack, it had been 
pressed home so bravely, that Mistress Battersby 
was for the moment utterly unable to make any 
reply. Job and Polly exchanged one rapid glance, 
and the trooper’s face expanded into a broad grin, 
whilst Polly stood with downcast eyes sure of her 
victory. 

What passed in that moment of trial in Mistress 
Battersby’s heart it is impossible to say; the keynote 
of her nature, vanity, had been struck with an un- 
erring hand, but she would bandy no more words 
with this saucy girl. 

“ Begone, hussy ! ” she exclaimed, her voice shrill 
in its octave of anger, and_ Polly fled. There was a 
flutter of a skirt, one swift Parthian shaft from her 
eyes at Job, and she was gone. 

And now the vials of the housekeeper’s wrath 
were opened upon Job. “ And thou ! What dost 
here — ruining an honest girl’s name? ” Job was 
past all shame by this, and was as reckless as Polly. 
“ ’Twas but the kiss of peace, Mistress ! ” he said 
unctuously — “ the kiss of peace ! ” 

But he had reckoned without his host; and Mis- 
tress Battersby blazed out : 

“Thou ribald scoffer! Hence! I shall report 


THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 


65 

upon thee to the Cornet. What dost here, I ask? 
Hast any business, or hast wandered here like an ass 
in search of thistles? ” 

This was getting serious. A report to that marti- 
net, the Cornet, meant trouble, as Hopkins well 
knew, and so he dropped his defiant air, and, pro- 
ducing the Colonel's letter from the basket hilt of 
his sword, handed it to the housekeeper. 

“ The worshipful Colonel Maunsell bade me de- 
liver this to Lady Capel. ,, 

“ I will see that it reaches my lady in safety, and 
now begone,” and Job waited to hear no more. 

Mistress Battersby placed the letter on a salver 
near the lounge, and then passing quickly through 
the curtains covering the lancet arch, she knocked 
gently at a closed door beyond, and receiving no 
answer, returned. 

“ ’Tis best to make sure,” she said to herself. 
“ My lady is not there, nor hath been seen for three 
hours,” and then she took the liberty of seating her- 
self to calm her feelings. 

It had been a spirited passage at arms whilst it 
lasted, and as she came to think of it, Mistress Bat- 
tersby was not quite sure that victory rested with 
her, though she remained in possession of the field. 
She was “ all of a twitter,” as she put it to herself, 
and it took some little time to compose herself. 


66 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


A good, kindly soul, still a very good-looking 
woman, and utterly faithful to the house she served, 
she possessed in no ordinary degree a vanity of 
temper that was easily played upon, so, as her ruffled 
plumage smoothed itself out, she began to be 
doubtful whether there was truth or not in Polly’s 
statement. It was unspeakable impertinence on the 
Cornet’s part — and here she blushed with secret 
pleasure at the thought — but soldiers were ever bold 
wooers, and the Cornet was in many ways not like 
other men. 

To give her credit, no thought of that forbidding 
personage had ever entered the worthy dame’s mind 
until Polly’s pert speech. She had in truth up to 
now, like a faithful retainer and Royalist, been icy 
in her formal treatment of the unwelcome guests at 
Coombe Royal; but the new idea was planted, and 
began to grow with surprising rapidity. Perhaps 
after all Polly was speaking no more than the bare 
truth. Men had their little ways, and the Cornet 
was known to be a man of singular shyness, and may 
have chosen this roundabout way to express his feel- 
ings. Again, she was a sensible woman in some 
things, and the love of an honest man, even though 
he was a Roundhead, was not to be despised. 

“ Ah, me,” she sighed, and let her thoughts run 
on, “ ’tis a brave soldier, the Cornet, as I have heard, 


THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 


67 


though he be a little lank and hath but one eye. 
Well, well, Silas Battersby hath lain in his grave this 
ten years. I was a good wife to him, and he loved 
sack hugely.” She sighed again as she thought of 
this failing on the part of the departed and rising, 
glanced at the mirror, setting her cap straight with 
a deft touch of her hand. The mirrored reflection 
did not displease her. 

“ Yes, still young and comely, Marjorie Bat- 
tersby. Not any of your span-waisted, slim-ankled, 
feather-brained minxes; but wise and discreet, with 
the lightest hand at pasty, and the quickest needle 
in the shire, and some heavy gold pieces laid up 
against a rainy day. Just such an one as a grave and 
sober man might choose to wife.” 

And standing, her back to the door, one hand 
resting on the carved oak of the mantel, she let her- 
self slip into a day dream, such a day dream as comes 
to the heart of every woman at times, be she peeress 
or peasant. 

And so we will leave her for a little, and seek the 
sour-looking Cornet in his chamber, whither he had 
retired for a brief space of solitary meditation, a habit 
that was peculiar to him. 

He had done his rounds, and made all arrange- 
ments for the reception of the Lord General, as he 
still called him, despite his new titles. To Rock and 


68 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


his the Great Englishman would ever be this. Nev- 
ertheless, the Cornet was not satisfied in mind. In 
truth, Rock was beginning to think that sufficient 
zeal was not being exercised in the search for the 
rebel on whose head there was so high a price. 

It was true that the countryside was being 
scoured. It was true also that there was not a nook 
and cranny of the great house that had not been 
searched by men practised in the art of hunting 
down a foe; but there had been a want of severity 
in some things that was displeasing to Rock. His 
memory went back to the days gone by, when, with 
Mansfield and his free-riders, he had swept through 
Lauenberg and had taken the traitor Margrave, 
Francis Albert. The circumstances that ended in his 
capture were much the same as this, only no time 
would ever efface the marks of that visitation, and 
the Cornet, who was of opinion that war should be 
war, thought that a little of the same tonic Mans- 
field had given the good folk at Schloss Lauenberg 
would not be out of place here. He rose and tapped 
at the wainscoting with a long forefinger, as if ex- 
pecting a secret door to fly open at his touch. None 
did so, and he stood, his finger resting on the dark 
oak, in silent commune with himself. 

As he stood thus brooding, the galling thought 
came to him that they had failed in their enterprise, 


THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 69 

and, what was worse, that the knowledge of this 
failure would soon be with their great Captain. In 
his heart he began to reproach Maunsell. In some 
things Rock was far-seeing, and he had put this and 
that together, and came to the conclusion that the 
Colonel’s zeal was not red-hot on his mission. More 
and more sour did the Cornet’s face become as he 
thought of this. Of one thing he was sure — their 
man had not got off; and it would not be for want 
of effort on Rock’s part that he would escape, if he 
did. He felt his professional reputation at stake. 
Was he, a veteran of thirty years and more of war, 
to be baulked like this? Not if he could help it. 
At last an idea came to him. He was in charge of the 
house. Why not make another, and a sudden, 
search through the building, with due and particular 
attention towards the wing occupied by Lady Capel. 

Yes, the idea was good, and ’twere best carried 
out at once. So, as he buckled on his sword, Rock 
muttered to himself, What if he hath taken earth 
here? If so, there is but one hiding-place for him, 
and if there?” He tapped the shining hilt of his 
sword, and laughing grimly to himself, stepped forth 
from the room. 

He made straight for the west wing, and for 
Dorothy’s apartments. Now that he had marked 
out his course, and taken his heart in both hands, 


70 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


there was nothing that would stay him; but even 
as he went, the vast deserted galleries, and the chill 
silence of the empty rooms, filled him with evil fore- 
boding; and he cursed himself for a puling child as 
the echo of his own footfall startled him. At last 
he reached the Ladies’ Gallery, and as he glanced to 
the right and left of him at the row of fair women, 
whose portraits hung on the walls, he seemed to feel 
their haughty glances withering him as he passed, 
but still he kept on, snarling with anger at his own 
weakness, and smarting under a sense of defeat. But 
if it were possible — if man could win — 'Rock meant 
to win now. 

At last he came to the Blue Room, the door was 
half open still. He hesitated for a moment, and 
then stepped in softly. As he did so, he caught sight 
of the figure of Mistress Battersby, still wrapt in her 
day dream. 

“ Lady Dorothy ! ” he muttered, and stepped back 
as softly as he had entered. All his courage seemed 
to ooze out of his finger tips, at the thought of a 
passage of arms with a woman. But shame came to 
his aid. He would not go back; and mustering all 
his courage, and looking more forbidding than ever, 
he marched into the room, with a loud “ Ahem! ” 
and found himself face to face with one of whom he 
stood in greater awe than even the mistress of 
Coombe Royal. 


THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 


7i 


As for Mistress Battersby, it is sufficient to say 
that never was woman more astonished. A wild 
thought came to her vain mind that Polly had in- 
formed the Cornet where she was to be found, as a 
sort of peace offering, and she stood there, curtsey- 
ing to Rock, blushing like a schoolgirl, half angry 
and half pleased. 

And Rock was no whit less disconcerted. He 
shifted from one leg to the other, and making a 
profound bow began, “ Your servant, mistress — I ” 

“ Sir ! ” interrupted Mistress Battersby, “ these 
are my lady’s apartments — to think of your coming 
here ” 

The matter had to be faced, and, Mistress Bat- 
tersby or not, the Cornet’s duty lay before him. So, 
though his heart quaked, he drew himself up stiffly. 

“ Mistress ! ” he said, “ I have come here, being 
well aware ” 

“ Oh, the hussy ! ” exclaimed Mistress Battersby, 
and the Cornet stared at her in astonishment. He 
thought darkly that perhaps there was guilt in this 
confusion, and the thought gave him strength. He 
made a step forwards. 

“ I have come,” he said, “ to seek ” 

But poor Mistress Battersby’s fluttering brain 
could think of nothing except the one idea that lay 
nearest her heart. 


72 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ I know, Cornet,” she said hastily. “ But not 
here. But you men are so rash! Meet me this 
evening in my own parlour ! ” 

Rock went back the step he had taken forwards. 
Was this a lunatic he had before him? 

“ Mistress, I — I ” 

But he could not finish his speech. A white 
shapely hand was on his sleeve. 

“ Tis impossible here, Cornet. My lady may be 
back any minute; but to-night there will be a pasty 
and a bottle of Gascony wine, such as a soldier 
loveth.” 

Rock was in speechless amaze and anger. In try- 
ing to free himself, he placed his hand on Mistress 
Battersby’s restraining fingers, only to feel the warm 
clasp of her hand in return. A cold sweat came over 
him. 

Angry words he would have faced. The clash of 
steel would have been welcome — but this! 

“ Do I dream? ” he gasped. 

“ Nay, indeed ! Twill be no dream, and Twill be 
sack if thou lovest it better than Gascony wine.” 

“ Oh ! ” groaned Rock, and even as he did so 
Mistress Battersby’s still fair head fell gently on his 
shoulder, as with half-closed eyes she murmured : 

“ Oh, Cornet ! Cornet!” 

With a smothered cry of horror and despair Rock 


THE WOMAN OF BABYLON 73 

strove to free himself. “ Thou Delilah ! Unhand 
me!” he exclaimed. “Yea, I will flee! Even as 
Joseph fled! Avaunt thee! thou Woman of Baby- 
lon !” 

With this he tore himself from her grasp and fled, 
rage and terror on his countenance. 


CHAPTER VI 


IN THE BLUE ROOM 

In the summer twilight Dorothy Capel sat at the 
bow window in the Blue Room, a crumpled paper 
in her hand. It was Maunsell’s letter, and if had 
been read at first with astonishment, and then with 
hot anger. After what Harden had told her this 
was not unexpected; indeed, she had been dimly 
conscious of Maunsell’s feelings towards her before, 
a knowledge of these things coming by instinct to 
her sex. Then, too, Harden had unmasked his kins- 
man to her, and, quick and impulsive, she felt it was 
an intolerable insult that the man should have said 
what he had. 

“ How dare he? ” she burst forth. “ How dare 
he write this? ” And then as if to add fuel to her 
anger, she read the note once more. 

“ It is too much ! ” and springing up she laughed 
out scornfully, “ The love of an honourable man. 
Honourable, indeed! Such honour as a traitor to 
his King and the robber of his kinsman’s inheritance 
may hold. Oh, Kit, you were right ! ” She made 
74 


IN THE BLUE ROOM 


75 


as if she would tear the paper to fragments, but 
something stayed her. Perhaps it was that secret 
pride of conquest which every woman has at heart 
that refrained her — no man can tell. 

Be this as it may, the letter was not scattered to 
the four winds of heaven, but it was read again, and 
yet again, and on each occasion of its reading with 
less and less of the fierce sense of wrong that at first 
possessed her. Stiff and formal in its expression, 
there was nothing in the words, which seemed to 
be held back by a great restraining power, that any 
woman might be ashamed to listen to. It was all 
of course utterly impossible, but — and the train of 
her thoughts was interrupted by a slight noise at 
the door. 

In a moment the letter was in a pocket of her 
dress; but it was only a servant after all who came 
to light the candles in the rarely wrought candelabra, 
the work of no less a hand than Benvenuto Cellini. 
They had been gifts to a past lord of Capel by 
Francis of France, and they stood now in all their 
matchless beauty in the mellow radiance of the 
lights. 

The man went at last, and Dorothy, stepping up 
to the light, read her letter again, and this time 
something stirred her, and her lips parted in a half- 
amused smile. 


76 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ Each word stands as stiff and straight as one 
of his own dragoons, and it might be one of those 
empty suits of armour in the Long Gallery stepping 
forth to offer his love. He begs permission to wait 
on me — well, I shall see him and give him his an- 
swer ! I fear, though, that Colonel Antony Maunsell 
will not enjoy the interview.” 

With this she put the letter back once more into 
her pocket, and touched the bell. In a little space 
Polly appeared. 

“ Tell Colonel Maunsell that I await him here.” 

“ M’Lady.” Polly turned to go, and then stopped 
in hesitation. 

“ What is it, Maple? ” 

Polly came back. “ Oh, M’Lady, they have re- 
turned empty handed, and ’tis said that Sir Chris- 
topher hath escaped.” 

A glad look came into Dorothy’s eyes. It was 
something to know that Kit was still free, and her 
plan would work itself out. If Polly’s tale was true 
that the Roundheads believed their quarry had 
escaped, they would in all probability go too, and 
Harden would be safe, and could lie in Coombe 
Royal in security with faithful hearts around him, 
until opportunity came for him to flee to France. 

“ Who told you, Polly? ” 

“Job, M’Lady — Job Hopkins; he that was the 


IN THE BLUE ROOM 


77 


keeper’s son at Hardenholt, and is now an Ironside. 
But he said, too, that the Cornet was set on search- 
ing the house once more.” 

Dorothy’s heart sank within her. In an hour at 
most Kit would be here, and if this was true, all 
was lost. And yet no soul, not even Polly, knew 
of Harden’s expected coming. If the news was 
true, Harden must be warned at once — but how? 
Her mind seemed to reel within her; but Polly’s 
next words came with a relief unspeakable. 

“ Yes, M’Lady, the Cornet was bent on searching 
the house, and made known his wish to the Colonel. 
But the latter forbade him, and Job says there were 
high words between them, and that the Cornet hath 
been ordered to his quarters.” 

At any other time Dorothy might have stopped 
to think of this strange change of front on the part 
of the Colonel, but for the moment her only sense 
was one of relief at the threatened danger averted. 
It gave time, and time was everything now. But 
Polly must be told that Harden would be here soon, 
and — there was Maunsell to see. That must be got 
over first, and then she would tell her foster-sister 
and maid. 

“ Go, Polly. Give my message to Colonel Maun- 
sell.” 

“ Yes, M’Lady ! ” and Polly was gone. 


78 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Five minutes passed — ten minutes passed, and 
Dorothy stood outwardly calm, but inwardly with 
her nerves at highest tension. In that brief time, 
however, her maid’s statement that Maunsell had 
forbidden Rock’s plan of searching the house came 
back once more to her mind; and with it came the 
thought that, knowing what she did of Maunsell’s 
feelings towards her, it might be possible to lead 
him on with false hopes, and gain a further advan- 
tage for Harden’s escape; but she was a Capel, and 
the thought was banished almost on the moment 
that it came. Come what may this was impossible 
— there could be nothing between her and the 
Colonel but war, open and undisguised. 

Now came a firm, steady step in the gallery out- 
side, a knock at the door, and the next moment 
Colonel Antony Maunsell was in the room. 

He carried his plumeless hat in his hand, and the 
sombre richness of his attire was well suited to his 
tall, straight figure. Altogether it was a presence 
calculated to command notice, and perhaps to over- 
awe a little; and this was increased by the gravity 
of his countenance, a haughty severity of feature, 
that was, however, lit and softened by the straight, 
true look in the eyes. Dorothy felt all this instinct- 
ively, and felt, too, despite Harden’s warning, that 
here was a man who, even if an enemy, could be 


IN THE BLUE ROOM 


79 


nothing but a brave and generous one. Yet the 
very thought that she was making this unwilling 
concession in her heart moved her to hot anger at 
herself, and hardened her in her bitterness. It was 
an awkward moment, and, after the first formal bow 
he made was returned with the barest inclination, 
Maunsell stood silent before the tall, slight, fair- 
haired girl, who looked at him with such chill indif- 
ference; and where greeting was like ice. Truly it 
was a strange courtship! Even as he stood there 
Black Tony felt his cause was lost. 

“ I await Colonel Maunsell’s pleasure.” The 
voice might have come from an iceberg; and the 
strong man felt his last hope founder utterly. 

There was a look of pain in the dark eyes, and 
Dorothy felt that she had drawn first blood, though 
the look haunted her long after. 

“ I have come,” he began, “ for my answer. You 
know what it means to me.” 

“ Indeed! You give my intelligence too much 
credit, I fear.” She would not meet his look as she 
spoke, and with a quick movement she rested her 
hand on the back of the lounge near her, and 
began nervously pulling at the gold tassel of a 
cushion. 

Maunsell’s embarrassment increased. He had, 
however, seen her pale as he spoke, and that the 


8o 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


hand resting on the lounge shook like an aspen leaf, 
and his heart smote him. 

“ I — I will come another time,” he stammered, 
and then, as he floundered into deeps beyond him, 
“You are looking tired — will you not sit down?” 

Dorothy meant him to drink the hemlock to the 
dregs. “ I prefer to stand,” she said; and then, 
“ but you do right to offer me a seat in Coombe 
Royal — you, its new master.” 

The words were bitter and cruel, and scarce had 
they left her lips when she would have given her 
right hand to recall them. They stung like a lash, 
and Maunsell flushed hotly; but his strength came 
back to him. 

“ You are unjust and unkind,” he said in grave 
reproach. 

She felt it herself; but this man was a victorious 
enemy; and more, he was hunting to death the man 
she loved, and the sense of injury and wrong was 
hot within her. It was in her power now to make 
Maunsell rue the day he ever crossed her path, and 
though she felt there was something pulling her 
back, she would not abate one jot of the punishment 
she had it in her hands to inflict. So there was one 
swift, scornful glance of the blue eyes, as she an- 
swered : 

“ If this is all you have to say, perhaps this inter- 


IN THE BLUE ROOM 


81 


view might end. You have, I think, had your an- 
swer.” 

“ Ay ! ” he said, “ I have.” And now there was a 
pause, in which the silence was almost more intoler- 
able to either than their speech. Maunsell turned to 
go; and then, as if unwilling to abandon all Hope 
without one more struggle, faced her once more, 
his low, deep voice vibrating with the passion in his 
heart. All the stiff formality that might have be- 
come a grandee of Spain had gone. He was a very 
man now, pleading for what was to him more than 
life, and Dorothy Capel felt each word ring true, but 
she hardened her heart against him, and as he ended 
she said, “ Colonel Maunsell, you seem to forget that 
in a matter like this a woman does not only need to 
love, but to honour where she loves.” 

Again the bronze on his cheek grew darker as he 
answered, “ You have no right to say that last thing 
— my honour is clean.” 

She liked him all the better for this quick touch 
of anger. The cold, hard flint could strike fire, and, 
high-spirited as she was, Dorothy was almost afraid 
of the spark she had drawn; but there was no going 
back, and he had to be crushed, and utterly crushed. 

“ Your honour ! ” There was unspeakable bitter- 
ness in her tone, “ Your honour! You — traitor to 
your King, and traitor to your kin ! ” 


82 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


She had worked herself to high, blazing wrath by 
this, and stood before him, a delicate, fragile woman, 
with all the spirit of her knightly ancestors shining 
from her eyes. She had struck with all her strength 
now, and the blow had gone home. She made a 
movement as if to go herself; but Maunsell’s voice, 
and an unconscious tone of command in it, arrested 
her. 

“ Hear me ! ” he said, “ I must right myself in this 
to you; and not even from you will I hear a word 
against my honour. Tis true I took up arms against 
Charles Stuart. I did so with all that England holds 
her best and bravest. Think you it was nothing to 
break from those I loved, to follow my conscience, 
and to throw in my lot with those who wished Eng- 
land free? I was no traitor to the King! As for 
my kinsman — granted that Hardenholt is mine — I 
did but save it from passing into strange hands, when 
Harden had diced away his honour and his patri- 
mony.” 

Kit Harden was right. The man was a deadly 
foe after all; and would shrink at nothing to gain 
his ends; but she had not calculated on such pitiful 
meanness as that of slandering his absent kinsman, 
and she blazed forth. 

“ And you seek to confirm your hold by hunting 
him to death ! Could you not trust that hangman's 
work to other hands? ” 


IN THE BLUE ROOM 


83 


“ I would indeed ’twere in other hands. Un- 
worthy as Harden is, he is my kinsman, and we were 
friends until ” 

“ Ah ! Do not hesitate, Colonel Maunsell ! Your 
kinsman is not here to defend himself, and I am but 
a woman.” 

“ No ! ” he said, “ I will not hesitate now, I have 
gone too far — we were friends, I say, till he forfeited 
his honour, and no honest man could call him 
friend.” 

“ You ! You dare say that ! ” 

“ Ay ! More’s the pity ! But it is not that which 
urges me on against him. I am but a servant of 
the State. I have my duty.” 

“ And I mine, to aid him with all my strength ! 
For I am Harden’s promised wife. You coward, to 
abuse an absent man ! ” 

It was all over. There was not a straw of hope 
left to which Maunsell could cling. He half turned 
his face from her for a moment, and then met her 
look once more. 

“ As God is my witness I did not know this thing. 
Forgive me ! And forget what I have said.” 

She made no answer, and he left her standing 
there, her fingers idly tearing at the tassel. So as 
she stood, there came through the open window 7 a 
confused murmur of voices, and then a cheer. 


8 4 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


In a flash it came to her overwrought mind that 
Harden was captured, and that his foemen were ex- 
ulting in their triumph. 

“ Oh, Kit ! ” she gasped, “ they have taken you ! ” 
And then the brave heart gave way for once, and 
she sank on a seat, sobbing like a child. 


CHAPTER VII 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 

When Patience's ready wit had put off Tutbury 
and his men, and they hastened away to search the 
distant moorland, there was one amongst them who 
doubted her in his heart for reasons of his own. We 
saw him, Mauley, as he crossed the bridge last of all, 
bringing down, in idle humour, clusters of wild 
flowers with long sweeps of his sword. Finally he 
desisted, wiped the blade on the sleeve of his buff 
coat, and followed sullenly in the rear rank. Fierce 
as Peter Mauley’s zeal was in the cause there was 
yet another if a secondary element in his nature, 
which sometimes overpowered the first, and this was 
the avarice of gold. And there was gold to be had 
here; and Mauley meant, if possible, to win for him- 
self the whole reward offered for the capture of 
Harden. 

He knew, what no one else knew, that it was no 
foot of woman that had trodden the turf near the 
85 


86 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


thickets. Had he but lifted his voice then Harden 
was lost; but this meant the sharing of the blood- 
money with the others. 

And so, with low cunning, he held himself still, 
and passively aided Patience for his own sake. 

Alone of all those there, he had read her like a 
book, because he knew of that one generous deed 
of Harden’s in the past; and he had meant to get the 
others away, and stay back himself, and make the 
arrest. But this was impossible, so as he went 
brooding along, he began to reflect that if he re- 
turned suddenly to the spot where they had left 
Patience, he would not find her alone. 

But to obtain permission to return, it was neces- 
sary to take Tutbury into his confidence, and — gall- 
ing thought — to share the spoil with him. But a 
half share was better than a sixth, and so he made 
up his mind. 

When they had gone about half a mile, Tutbury 
called a halt, and divided his men into two parties. 
One was to make a long detour to the west, and the 
other, consisting of Mauley and himself — he had but 
six men all told — was to go straight forwards. The 
stronger party was to divide itself again, into two 
sections of two each, and cut off any retreat, as far 
as they were able, by the north and west. On the 
east no attempt could be made, as Coombe Royal 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 87 

lay there, and it was full of hostile men, and watch 
and ward was kept far beyond the park limits. 

When the first party had gone, Tutbury and 
Mauley went forwards doggedly, side by side, until 
at last the latter broke silence. 

“ Sergeant ! a thousand pounds is a rare sum of 
money.” 

Tutbury grunted in answer, as Mauley went on: 
“ Even half of it would make thee or me a rich 
man.” 

“ What wool art gathering? Onwards — we have 
still far to go.” 

“ Wool of price, Sergeant ! Wool of price ! I tell 
thee ’twere worth that thousand pounds to me, ex- 
cept that there must be two in this business. Yea, 
Thomas Tutbury ! Not in vain am I named Lie-as- 
a-Bear-in-wait-for-the-Heathen ! ’Tis you, not I, 
who go to gather thistle-down for wool.” 

Tutbury stopped, and turned on his comrade. 
“ Speak not in riddles,” he said, “ make thy mean- 
ing clear. If thou knowest aught, say it — thou 
shouldst have spoken before.” 

“ Neither thou nor I would have been rich men 
then, Sergeant. Six portions of a thousand make 
but small shares. Listen! Thou wert not at 
Waltham when the face of the Lord was from ns, 
and Rupert surprised the town. Thou wert bred 


88 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


a butcher, Tutbury, as I was; but I tell thee, neither 
thou nor I ere saw so red a shambles. We fought 
them from street to street, from house to house, 
fought, and fell, and died. Some of us took refuge 
in a barn. There were not many, a dozen all told, 
and I was sorely wounded; but Elihu Burnside was 
there and his daughter, safe till now from what befell 
other women. The place was taken — taken by 
German foreigners — and they swarmed in to their 
damned work. One seized on Burnside’s daughter, 
with a laugh that I remember yet, and then they fell 
to quarrelling amongst themselves, when another 
party burst in, and their leader, an Englishman, shot 
down the German like the dog he was, and I can 
remember no more — for my senses failed me.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ Listen ! The man who saved Patience Burnside 
was Harden himself; and this eve she hath in part 
repaid her debt. That grass was not down-trodden 
by the span-length foot of a girl. Full and fair in 
the soil was the foot of a man, and that man was 
Harden. Hey ! hey ! ” and he laughed harshly. “ To 
think that thou, old war-dog, shouldst have been 
tricked by a slip of a lass ! ” 

“ In God’s name why didst thou not speak be- 
fore? ” 

“ I have already told thee twice — we .share and 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


89 


share alike, for thou and I be of the same craft, and 
since Chalgrove Field have fought and bled to- 
gether. Let Gideon Hales guide the search party 
across the moor. They will miss us, and return 
hungry for their meal. But thou and I, we will hark 
back. I shall make straight for the spot where I 
last saw trace of Harden, and thou, take thyself to 
the wood to thy right, and follow it eastwards. We 
will meet at the Sanctuary. ’Tis likely as not the 
Malignant hath doubled back thither, for there he 
was once as we know. Behold ! Ahab is under our 
hand ! And this eve thou or I shall have the glory, 
and above all — ’tis share and share alike, and no soul 
aught besides.” 

For a moment the Sergeant stood leaning on his 
sword. His bullet head dropped between his shoul- 
ders, and his far-set eyes cast a keen and searphing 
glance at Mauley. At last he made up his mind. 

“ Ay ! thou art right. ’Tis thou shouldst have 
been sergeant, not I; and ’twill be share and share 
alike — here’s my hand on’t.” 

And then they parted, each to go their arranged 
ways. What happened to Mauley we know. How, 
after finding further trace of the fugitive, he reached 
the forest glade to meet Maunsell there, and got 
carried away, as the others were, by the burst of re- 
ligious frenzy that had come upon Burnside. 


9 o 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


There we will leave him for the present, and 
follow the track of Sergeant Tutbury, as with un- 
bated breath he hastened to the forest, and followed 
a winding pathway that seemed to lead into its very 
deeps. He went forward cautiously, taking cover 
like the old soldier he was, and peering into the grey 
shadows with his keen searching eyes. The sunset 
lit the tree trunks till they shone like bronze, and 
the long shafts of light that penetrated the gloom 
seemed only to accentuate its darkness. Now and 
again a gnarled tree took the shape and form of 
man, and hope would rise in Tutbury ’s breast, only 
to be banished a moment later. Sometimes a bough 
moving in the breeze, as its leaves swept across the 
shadows, seemed to conceal a fleeting figure behind 
it; but it was the fancy of his strained eyes, and that 
was all. The gentle wind sighed mournfully in the 
leaves overhead, the lights grew more ruddy and 
the shadows darker. The pathway itself faded off 
into nothingness, and at last it began to dawn on 
Tutbury that he knew not north from south, or east 
from west, and that to all intents and purposes he 
was lost. 

He made a cast backwards to try and get a 
glimpse of the sun; but the sun had set, and the 
impenetrable wall of trees made it impossible for 
him to see the fire girdle in the west. But a sum- 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


91 


mer twilight was taking the place of the red sun, 
and he could see the faint silver shield of a glorious 
moon that strove with the twilight, and that later 
on would bathe the night in its splendour. All this 
the old soldier saw; but gave them not a thought. 
He was smarting at the thought that he had lost 
his way, and was wandering like a lost babe, while 
Mauley was perhaps within arm’s length of the rebel. 
His bullet head drooped in the strange way he had 
when puzzled or thinking, and then as suddenly 
he squared himself and started forwards. He had 
taken his chance of going straight on ahead, come 
what may. 

He had decided on this at blind venture — and 
that venture was to succeed. Scarce had he gone 
a hundred paces when he saw something flit between 
the open space between two huge elms, and then 
was lost to view at once. It was no waving bough, 
no fancy of his imagination on this occasion. Full 
and fair he saw it, not a bow-shot away, and even 
in that shadowy twilight he was sure it was a man, 
and if so, it was the man he sought. 

He put himself to the run. The turf was soft and 
heavy, but he had not gone twenty paces ere he 
realised that the noise of his footfalls would reach 
the other’s ears, and then pursuit would be useless. 
So he slackened to a long, rapid stride, and cau- 


9 2 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


tiously approached the elms. Once behind the cover 
of their trunks he peered out in the direction the 
man had taken. The forest seemed to open out 
like a fan there, and it was not so deep or dense as 
that behind him. At first he made out nothing; 
but just as he was about to advance once more, 
and follow the direction the figure had taken, he 
saw it once again, and this time there was absolute 
certainty. The plumed hat, the short cloak falling 
over the shoulder, and the flash of the drawn rapier 
in his hand was enough for Tutbury. It was Har- 
den himself — and at last he was run to earth. 

Slowly and deliberately the Cavalier crossed the 
open space. He was too far for a pistol shot, else 
Tutbury would have risked it, uncertain as the light 
was, and he was too far for a sudden rush to succeed. 
The stalk was not yet over, but the end was at hand. 
Tutbury watched him as he crossed the glade, wait- 
ing for an opportunity for Harden’s back to be 
turned on him ere he made another step forwards, 
when he saw the Cavalier suddenly gather himself 
together like a buck, and spring forwards. There 
was a faint distant “ thud ! ” as of a body alighting 
with some force on earth, and Harden was again 
lost to view. 

So quickly did this happen that for a second Tut- 
bury scarce believed his eyes. Then he realised, 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


93 


and, with a snarl, sprang forwards, and raced this 
time till he reached the spot where Harden had van- 
ished from view. Here the forest stream took a 
loop in its windings, and Harden had leaped it as it 
came in his path. 

As he looked at the width of the stream a half- 
unconscious exclamation of admiration burst from 
Tutbury. He was himself an athlete of rare powers, 
but this was something far beyond him. The Ser- 
geant could see from the steep bank that the slow- 
moving water was deep here, so he took to it like 
an otter, and in a few strokes was on the opposite 
shore. As he pulled himself up the bank he saw 
the pathway Harden had made for himself in the 
grass immediately before him, and followed it at a 
quick but cautious pace. Suddenly he found himself 
almost outside the belt of trees around him, and as 
he halted in hesitation as to the course he should 
take, he saw before him a stretch of open country, 
whilst on his right a long arm of the forest reached 
out to the very walls of Coombe Royal itself, whose 
vast purple silhouette, with Kenelm’s Tower high 
above all, stood solidly out against the evening sky. 
And there in front of him, as if he had stopped to 
admire the scene, stood Harden himself, out in the 
full open. He stood with his back to Tutbury, 
facing Coombe Royal, and twice the latter covered 


94 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


him with his pistol, and twice put in down. Harden 
was out of range. Tutbury shook his head, and 
slipped the pistol back into his belt. There was no 
other course open to him but to gain a few yards by 
a stealthy stalk, and then rush his man. Harden 
was absorbed in contemplation of the scene before 
him. He was fanning himself lazily with his hat, 
and Tutbury saw the glint of the evening on his 
fair hair. Slowly and cautiously the sergeant moved 
forwards, pistol in hand, when there came a faint, 
crackling noise from under his foot. He had stepped 
upon a dry twig. Tutbury was still in the cover, 
and he dropped on his face like lightning, hoping 
that the sound would not reach his man — it was, 
after all, so faint and slight. He peered from the 
darkness to see the effect of his blunder, and swore 
a bitter oath under his breath, for Harden had turned 
sharply round, and was facing him. Those trained 
powers of his, sensitive as those of a stag, had 
heard the sudden snapping of the twig, and felt 
the deathly stillness that followed. To Tutbury’s 
joy he made a step forwards as if he was about to 
advance and look further into the place whence the 
sound had come, but as suddenly he swung round 
again, and moved forwards right across the open, in 
the direction of Coombe Royal. 

Now a portion of this strip of forest curved round 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


95 


in a half-circle, and Harden was making for the head 
of this. He was in no hurry, but walked on as if he 
was taking the air. If Tutbury could but reach the 
spot before Harden the latter was a lost man. 
Slowly and cautiously he rose, still keeping in the 
shadow. With a quick eye he took his bearings, 
and then, moving back into the forest, started off 
at a long trot. From these deeps no ordinary sound 
would reach Harden’s ears, and so he let himself 
go freely. Strong beyond most men, and tough as 
whipcord, Tutbury rapidly covered the ground; but 
as now and then he took a quick, searching glance 
at Harden, he saw that the latter, though still walk- 
ing along carelessly, had increased his pace, and for 
all Tutbury’s effort was certain to reach the head 
of the curve before he did. And this, in effect, hap- 
pened, so that when the sergeant came up Harden 
had disappeared, and all that he saw before him was 
a small pathway along the edge of the long stretch 
of forest. Tutbury stepped out into the open, and 
stooped to examine the pathway. As he did so 
there was a rustle in the bushes to the right, and 
Harden was before him, sword in hand. 

“ So, dog ! I have you at last ! ” 

It was Harden who spoke. Quick as thought 
Tutbury raised his pistol and pulled the trigger, but 
the hammer fell with a harmless click, and Harden 
stood smiling at him. 


9 6 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ Now, my man, ’tis my turn.” And his rapier 
shot out like a snake’s tongue, hitting Tutbury full 
and fair over the heart. Well was it for the sergeant 
that his breastplate was good and true ! The rapier 
glanced off to the side with a rasping hiss, but when 
Harden had recovered his guard Tutbury was 
armed, too, and his good sword was in his hand. 
There were centuries of hatred in that contest. On 
the one side was the slight, lithe-limbed aristocrat, 
cool and contemptuous, with a deadly smile on his 
face, and his long, fair Cavalier locks — he had cast 
aside his hat and cloak — framing his high, proud 
features in gold. Facing him was a splendid son of 
the people, bullet-headed and broad-shouldered, 
with muscles of tempered steel, a veteran of a hun- 
dred fights, an adversary to whom to give the 
slightest chance was to lose the game. 

They stood facing each other for a space, warily 
watching each other’s eyes, and it seemed that the 
red afterglow of the sunset grew brighter so as to 
cast more light upon that death-struggle, for one of 
the two would sleep his long, last sleep in Coombe 
Woods that night. 

Then there came a grating clash, and the swords 
had met, and another and a deadly thrust of Har- 
den’s had been parried with the skill of a master. 
Quick as thought the thrust was repeated, and as 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


97 


quickly was it parried again. Harden’s face assumed 
an expression of amused wonder. He had thought 
to kill this man at the first pass; but with the clumsy 
sword in his hand, and his iron nerve, the trooper 
had foiled him twice, and now there came a whizzing 
cut, so swift and rapid that, but for Harden’s cat- 
like spring back, he had been lost. 

“ Faith ! ” he laughed, “ thou art a very paladin. 
.Where didst thou gain thy skill, clod? ” 

“ On thee and thine,” came the answer, “ whom 
God had placed as a pestilence in our land. From 
Chalgrove Field to Worcester hath this good sword 
quenched its thirst.” 

“ ’Tis a long score to settle, and I had thought 
to spare thee, clod.” And with this the rapier came 
in again, with a thrust in tierce, that seemed to 
change in its passage, and, passing swiftly under 
Tutbury’s guard, again struck his corselet with a 
sharp cling. An oath burst from Harden. He had 
all but been taken on the riposte. Had his adversary 
been armed with a rapier it was all over with him 
then, but the clumsy sword had saved him. It was 
the weapon, and not the man behind it, that gave 
him life then. He sprang back again with all the 
agility he possessed, but this time he was hot and 
panting. 

“ Where didst thou get that breastplate?” he 


9 8 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


asked, leaning in apparent carelessness on his point, 
as if he felt he was out of reach. 

“ ’Twas forged by honest English hands, at an 
English anvil / 5 was the answer, as Tutbury, too, 
lowered his blade, for the weight of the weapon, 
which he had to use half as a rapier, was beginning 
to tell even upon his iron wrist. 

It almost cost him the game. With a leap like 
a leopard’s Harden was on him as his point went 
down. Strange chance alone saved Tutbury once 
more. Half instinctively he for the first time gave 
ground, and stepped aside, raising his sword-arm as 
he did so. His blade caught the rapier in its deadly 
passage at his throat, and it hissed over his shoulder, 
ripping the flesh slightly, and sending him reeling 
back. 

But the very violence of his attack was fatal to 
Harden. As its impetus carried him forwards, his 
foot caught in the turf, and he rolled over and over 
like a log. 

Ere he had time to realise it, Tutbury was on him, 
his sword-point at his heart; for one brief instant 
it shivered over Harden, and then it was withdrawn 
and the trooper stepped back. 

“ I have never struck blow at a fallen man yet / 5 
he said; “ get up and take thy sword . 55 

A red flush of shame was on Harden’s face. 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


99 


Slowly he arose, his lips set, his eyes fixed with a 
look of deadly hate on the man he had called a clod, 
on the man who, though obscure trooper as he was, 
had behaved like a knight of romance, and stood 
before him a gentleman made by God’s own 
hand. 

“ Take thy place, man. I have not asked Har- 
den of Hardenholt to yield.” 

He had spared him even this; and both knew now 
that it was to be to the death. Harden had cooled 
to ice. The shame of the thing had turned him to 
stone, and for a life given he meant to take a life 
now. Nothing but death could wipe out the 
ignominy of what had happened. 

Rasp ! rasp ! went the blades once more. Thrust 
and parry, parry and thrust, with now and then the 
wheezing sweep of a cut, as Tutbury strove against 
that deadly point, which twinkled like an evil star 
in his face. 

Both men were breathing hard. Tutbury’s wrist 
was shaking like a leaf, and slowly he began to give 
ground, and back, collecting himself, as it were, for 
a last effort against that face, which, pale as death, 
with the deadly eyes so full of bitter hate, that 
seemed ever to press closer to him. No thought 
of yielding ever came into his valiant heart. Son 
of the people though he was, he was as pure-bred 
ILofC. 


IOO 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


and high-couraged as the patrician before him. And 
though the great muscles were failing, and he felt 
his heart throbbing with the hot blood rushing to 
and from it, he still held on. 

But the end was at hand. Swifter and swifter 
grew the thrusts of that slender blade. The parries 
became weaker and weaker. Tutbury had been 
ripped on the forehead, and the blood almost 
blinded him. Another thrust was coming, and he 
tried to imitate Harden’s former tactics and spring 
back, and in the attempt exposed his side. 

The next moment he had flung up his arms with 
a sob. The heavy sword dropped to earth with a 
thud, and, spinning round once, Sergeant Tutbury 
fell. Harden’s blade had found the joint in his 
corselet and passed clean through him, and Thomas 
Tutbury had fought his last fight. 

Kit Harden stood over the body, his dripping 
rapier in his hand. As he did so the fallen man made 
a convulsive movement. Some indistinct words 
came from his twitching lips, and then there was a 
rush of blood from the mouth, a shuddering of the 
strong limbs, and he was gone. 

Not a ray of pity for a brave man dead warmed 
the icy heart of the victor. 

“ This — thing — had better rest here,” he mut- 
tered to himself, and then, with a laugh, as he 


KNAVE AGAINST KNIGHT 


IOI 


touched the body with his foot, “ Triple fool to 
think to hold Harden of Hardenholt ! ” 

With this he carefully cleaned his blade in the 
grass, feeling the edge and point with his hand. 
Then he took up his hat and cloak, and stepped 
once more into the forest. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 

It was Polly Maple, who found her mistress in 
her despairing mood, and gave her good cheer with 
the tidings that it was not Harden’s capture, but the 
news of the almost immediate coming of the Lord 
Protector that had caused those ringing shouts of 
joy, which brought with them such evil foreboding 
to Dorothy’s heart. 

But the revulsion of feeling affected her almost as 
much as the shock of her first suspicions, and Dor- 
othy’s white lips and shaking limbs told their own 
story. So Polly, whose own bright eyes were dim 
with tears for her foster-sister, arose and fled light- 
footed from the room, returning as quickly as she 
had gone with some wine, which she pressed upon 
her mistress. 

Dorothy had barely set the glass down from her 
lips and felt the warmth of the generous wine when 
there came a sharp, tinkling crash at the window, as 
if a small pebble had struck the glazing. 

The two women started and looked at each other. 


102 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


103 


There was a moment’s silence, then came another 
pebble, and Polly read the meaning of it all in her 
mistress’ eyes. 

“ Oh ! ” she exclaimed, with a gesture of despair 
“ and with Cromwell here, too ! ” 

But her high courage had come back to Dorothy. 
She ran to the window and looked out, and as she 
looked, a dim figure moved in the shadows of the 
shrubbery, and then flitted across the moonlit path 
below her. 

“ Kit ! ” she said, all low. “ Here ! To me ! ” 

There was a slight crunching noise on the gravel, 
and the next moment Harden sprang lightly in at 
the window, and she felt her hands in his warm 
clasp. 

“ Here at last ! ” he said. “ But for the luck of 
Harden, that ever follows me, there would have 
been an end to it all an hour ago,” and then, as 
he caught sight of Polly, he went on in his cheery 
way, ‘‘What, little Maple! Why so pale? Hast 
seen a ghost?” 

With this, he placed his hat and gloves on the 
low table, and, turning to Dorothy, said, “ And now, 
lady mine, the rest is in your hands.” 

Dorothy had pulled the curtains of the window 
together as he spoke, but his words brought home 
to her the new danger that had arisen since she made 


104 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


her forlorn plan. But for Cromwell’s coming there 
had been fair chance of success — but now! Yet 
there was no going back, and it was win all or lose 
all now. 

“ Kit,” she said, “ there is the secret chamber in 
Kenelm’s Tower, where many have lain in security 
before now. A passage leads to it from my room. 
You must lie there, and the secret will rest with 
Polly and myself.” 

He nodded, and would have said something; but 
his speech was checked, as there came to them 
through the night the roll of kettledrums that rose 
and fell with the wind, but rose each time with an 
ever-increasing volume of sound, approaching 
nearer and nearer each moment. 

“Why! what is that?” exclaimed Harden, and 
the two women answered in a breath : 

“ ’Tis Cromwell himself. He is coming here ! ” 

“What! Noll himself! Faith, they hunt me as 
if I were a Royal stag ! ” He walked to the de- 
canter, and, pouring himself out a bumper, held it 
in his hand, and listened to the insistent rumbling, 
as it grew nearer and yet more near. So for a 
moment he stood, a smile on his lips, and then, 
raising his glass at arm’s length above him, he called 
out defiantly : “ Here’s to the King, and thy damna- 
tion, Noll!” 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


105 


With this he drained the wine, and flung the deli- 
cate crystal from him into the fireplace, where it 
broke into a hundred tinkling fragments. 

And even as he did so there came a tumult of 
voices from the courtyard, and there was the con- 
tinuous bustle and tramp of hurrying feet — the 
danger had come indeed now, almost in visible 
presence. 

“ Quick, Kit ! ” exclaimed Dorothy. “ Here, 
with me ! ” And Harden snatched up his hat, and 
followed her through the lancet arch. There, in 
the upper room, was a small alcove, that might have 
been used as an oratory, and, indeed, was orig- 
inally intended for that purpose, although it con- 
cealed a secret passage beyond. Entering the al- 
cove, Dorothy twice pressed at a spring, but it 
refused to work, and now Polly ran into the 
room. 

“ There is someone coming/’ she said, all white 
with terror. 

Harden turned fiercely, as if to go back, but 
Dorothy restrained him. 

“ Go back, Polly. Whoever it is, detain him ! 
Say I am at my toilet — anything — but detain him 
till I come; go, girl! ” 

As Polly fled back, she pressed the spring once 
more with all her strength, and this time a door slid 


106 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

open, showing a flight of stone steps, that wound 
upwards into the inky darkness. 

“ Come,” she said, entering the passage, and 
Harden followed her. Up they went along the worn 
stone steps of the dark stairway, stumbling onwards, 
with no light to guide their footsteps, until at last a 
thin band of moonlight gleamed through a lozenge 
in the wall. 

This faint white strip of light was just sufficient 
to enable them to make out the face of a heavily 
studded door, and here Dorothy stopped, and whis- 
pered to Harden to draw back the bolt. He did so, 
with an effort that taxed even his strength, and as 
he forced the massive oak back upon its creaking 
hinges, there appeared before them a small vaulted 
room, where the darkness was only rendered the 
more intense by a faint ray glimmering through the 
aperture in the wall. 

In this oblong slit, which served to give a meagre 
light and a little air to the dungeon, for it was noth- 
ing else, an owl was sitting. For a moment, the 
bird looked down upon the intruders, with fierce, 
staring eyes, and then, with a dismal hoot and a 
sullen flapping of his great wings, flew off into the 
night. 

“ Tis a dreadful place,” said Dorothy with a 
shudder. “ I am indeed a prisoner,” replied Harden, 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


107 


and from the passage below, there came back a 
harsh, mocking echo — “ Prisoner.” 

The malign mockery, the stony ring in that voice 
of air, fell upon them both with evil foreboding, for 
these were times when the bravest put faith in things 
we scoff at now, and yet, perhaps, fear in our hearts; 
but Harden, with a certain affectation of bravado, 
called back : 

“ Thou art a false prophet ! ” And the echo an- 
swered “ Prophet! ” 

For a little they stood in silence, and then Dor- 
othy spoke. “No more!” she said, “else you 
might be heard. This is no prison, Kit; but a safe 
refuge. Here no soul will search, and here you will 
rest secure till they have gone.” 

“ I know, lass,” said Harden, “ ’tis but an echo, 
though an ugly one,” and unclasping his cloak, he 
placed it, together with his hat, on a small stone 
seat, that jutted out from the wall near him, and 
then uttered a low exclamation of annoyance. 

“ What is it? ” asked Dorothy. 

“ Only that my wits must have fled. I forgot my 
gloves in my haste to get here. I left them on the 
table where I placed my hat, and they would tell a 
tale were they found.” 

“ They are safe enough there, and I shall bring 
them to you at once,” said Dorothy bravely, though 


io8 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


she well knew the danger that slight error exposed 
them to. u And now Kit ! ” she added, “ I must 
go at once, and there is no fear, you are safe 
here.” 

Bravely and cheerily as she spoke, her heart was 
aching, and Harden understood. That whole- 
souled and loyal love, that unflinching courage had 
had their effect. Already in the past few hours 
Harden had felt the mute reproaches of a long- 
numbed and almost dead conscience, and from the 
far deeps of his unworthy heart, it flashed upon him 
yet another and a last signal, that showed him to 
himself the evil thing he was. The pity of it was 
that, with all his gifts, he possessed a nature which 
like Reuben's was as unstable as water. No seal 
could ever mark it with its impress, and all his gen- 
erous emotions were but for the moment, and then 
he slid downwards, on his cold and selfish path, a 
living personification of the motto of his house, 
Harden for Harden. 

But for the present, he was stirred — as once be- 
fore on this day, his ready tongue failed him, and he 
stood silent, and hesitating before this girl, who had 
shown him how great a woman’s love could be. 
Suddenly he put his hand on her shoulders; but 
kept his face from her eyes. 

“God bless you!” he said thickly; “ and now 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


109 


go — leave me ! ” And thus they parted. Harden 
listened to the light footsteps, growing lighter and 
fainter, as they descended the darksome passage, 
until he heard the distant sound of a closing door. 
Then, with a muttered oath, he flung himself down 
on the stone seat, his drawn sword by his side, and 
so waited with his thoughts for his companions. 
And thus we will leave him, and follow Dorothy. 

As she regained her room, Dorothy found herself 
face to face with her foster-sister. The girl was 
white and shaking with fear, and it was with the 
utmost difficulty that she found voice to whisper 
the news, that Cromwell was come, and that Colonel 
Maunsell awaited Dorothy in the Blue Room on 
business which he said would take no denial. 

Those tell-tale gloves! If Maunsell’s eyes had 
fallen on them, things were indeed hopeless ! And 
so, with a brief “ Stay here! ” to Polly, and a beat- 
ing heart, Dorothy passed through the lancet-arch 
to meet Maunsell, and to know the worst. 

The Colonel stood, hat in hand, near the window, 
and in the quick glance she gave around, Dorothy 
saw to her joy that the gloves still lay on the small 
table, almost concealed by the profusion of flowers 
that drooped around the vase near them. Hope 
returned to her, and with the faintest possible bow, 
she stepped forward, placing herself close to the 


IIO 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


table, and covering it from Maunsell’s view, as she 
asked coldly: 

“ Sir, may I ask the reason for this intrusion? ” 

His salute had been as stiff and formal as Her own; 
but from where she stood Dorothy saw how set and 
drawn his face was; and there was a strange, harsh 
ring in Maunsell’s voice, as he said abruptly : 

“ I have come, Madam, to inform you that His 
Highness The Lord Protector has arrived. ,, 

As he spoke she rested her hand lightly on the 
table, close, very close to the gloves, and now she 
broke in upon his speech with bitter words, hoping 
to distract his attention, whilst she gained posses- 
sion of the evidence of Harden’s presence in 
Coombe Royal. “ You will be able to play the 
host to the regicide in Coombe Royal; his coming 
here does not concern me in the least,” she said, 
and whilst she spoke she deftly picked up the gloves, 
holding her hand behind her as she launched forth 
her stinging words; but Maunsell took no notice of 
her speech, and continued in the same set manner : 

“ I am desired to express His Highness’s com- 
mands that you will present yourself before him to- 
night in the great hall, where he gives audience.” 
All the hot blood rose within her in fierce anger 
at the speech, and manner in which it was delivered, 
and the glance she shot at him flashed like an angry 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


in 


blade. Long years past, when blood was shed under 
the petals of the Red Rose and the White, a former 
mistress of Coombe Royal had struck down, for less 
than this, an insulting victor, with the dagger she 
wore at her girdle, and the blood and spirit of Dame 
Audrey Capel still lived in her descendant. “ I will 
not come,” she flashed back defiantly; “and now 
go. My answer is final.” 

He made no movement, and looked hard at her 
as she spoke, but there was a sudden softening in 
the abrupt, stern voice. 

“ Be warned. Cromwell is still well disposed 
towards you”; and without heeding the scornful 
curl of her lip, he continued, “ but you are more 
than suspected of harbouring his enemies.” 

“ I care not what the regicide thinks or suspects; 
all that I ask is to be relieved of your presence.” 

He smiled grimly, but took no further notice of 
her speech. The victory lay in his hands, and he 
knew it. He dropped out his words slowly and 
deliberately. 

“ Do not arouse further suspicion by any rash ac- 
tion. If Hardon has escaped by your aid, well, no 

one knows it but you. If — he — is here ” He 

stopped, and his eyes fell on the table where the 
gloves had been with so meaning a look in them 
that Dorothy’s heart sank within her. 


1 1 2 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ If he is here ” he began again slowly; but 

with an effort the girl mustered courage to reply. 

“ You will take him. He will be killed, and 
Hardenholt will be for ever yours. They will kill 
me, too, and you will get Coombe Royal as well. ,, 

Her voice had risen to a shrill pitch in her ex- 
citement, for her overstrung nerves were giving 
way, and even as she spoke she made a nervous 
movement of her hands, stepping back as she did 
so, and there, at the hem of her dress, on the pol- 
ished oak of the floor, lay one of the gloves, that 
had slipped and fallen from her hand. 

Both saw it at the same moment, but ere Dor- 
othy could make a movement, Maunsell had picked 
it up. He held it before her, and his voice again 
became stern and hard. “ This is too large to fit 
your little hand, Madam. This scented thing is 
proof enough. You see this crest? Harden is 
here.” He paused for a moment, and then, with a 
contemptuous turn of his wrist, flung the glove on 
the table as he continued : 

“ You see, I know all. I knew it half an hour 
ago.” 

She made no answer. She had none to make 
with that terrible evidence lying there. Maunsell 
said no more, but stood looking at her, and his dark 
eyes seemed to read into her very soul. There was 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


113 

a light in them that withered her courage to noth- 
ing, and made her shrink and shiver at its fearful 
import. What mercy could she expect from him? 
She had used her woman's tongue to humble to the 
dust this proud man, with words that cut sharper 
than a knife, and now victory was his, and there 
was no hope of pity. It was not for herself she 
feared, but for Harden; and at the thought of the 
terror to come all heart failed her, and she stood 
numbed and frozen into silence. 

As for Maunsell, he had won, and he knew it. 
He had but to put forth his hand, and his enemy 
was in his power hopelessly and for ever. It was 
but the world’s way, as the world was then, if he 
exacted his due of vengeance from the man who 
had wronged him times without number, and who 
had won that which he would have given all the 
world to win. But how poor a recompense was 
revenge for what he had lost ! And so, as he stood, 
towering above the shrinking figure of the girl be- 
fore him, there were a hundred conflicting emotions 
in his heart, for all the stern look in his eyes. 

“ Am I not right? ” he asked at last, slowly and 
deliberately, and his voice seemed to break the spell 
which hung over Dorothy. A sob broke from her, 
and twice she tried to speak, but twice her voice 
failed her. At last she burst out. She was hardly 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


114 

conscious of what she said. All that she knew was 
that she was pleading for the life of the man she 
loved. 

“ If you are a man, if you have one spark of 
honour left in you, you will not betray him.” 

He laughed harshly. “ Honour or manhood has 
nothing to do with this, Madam. I gave you your 
chance, but you have chosen your own course, and 
now ” 

He turned as if to go, but her hand was on his 
arm. Its light touch sent a shiver through him, 
and every note of that pleading voice cut him to the 
heart. 

“ Forgive me ! Forgive what I have said ! I am 
nearly mad. You say you love me; save him then 
— for my sake.” 

He had stepped back from her as she spoke, and 
now stood watching her with a strange light in his 
eyes, and a devilish whisper in his ears. He might 
buy her at the price of her lover’s safety. But 
even as the thought came to him he flung it from 
him, and his dark forehead flushed with the shame 
of it. And then Antony Maunsell was himself again. 
But ere he could speak the girl had broken out into 
pitiful pleading once again. “ Oh ! ” she concluded, 
“ you cannot be utterly merciless ! See ! I offer my 
life for his. I swear to you that the moment he is 


THE HAND OF A FRIEND 


IX 5 

free I will deliver myself up to Cromwell, and deny 
not the worst that can be brought against me. I am 
a woman, but my race knows how to die.” 

She stopped. Through the mist of her tears her 
eyes had caught his look, and with both hands 
clutching at his arm she waited in a gasping silence. 

And then Maunsell’s low, deep voice came to her 
with words of unutterable comfort. 

“ Yes, I think I can save Harden, and I will try. 
Nay; no thanks! You owe me none, nor do I ask 
for any; but listen ! I have a safe-conduct with me, 
under Cromwell’s own hand. ’Twas given to me 
for purposes of his own, and it will take Harden out 
of England until what you call ‘ better times ’ re- 
turn.” She made a movement as if about to speak, 
but he restrained her. 

“ Until I bring you this keep Harden safe. Let 
none know where he is bestowed except yourself.” 
And then, with a smile, he took up the glove which 
had told so much, and handed it to her, saying, 
“ And take this tell-tale thing away.” She tried to 
thank him through her tears, but with a quick re- 
turn of his stiff, formal manner he said, “ You owe 
me nothing. What I have said I will do, and Har- 
den’s safety now remains with himself and you.” 

He stepped towards the door, but she stayed him, 
calling him back, and holding out an outstretched 
hand. 


n6 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

“ Will you not take it? ” she said; “ it is now the 
hand of a friend.” The iron bands of his self-re- 
straint almost burst asunder, but he held himself in 
somehow. For one brief moment the small, white 
hand rested in his sunburnt palm as he bowed low 
over it, and then he left in a profound silence. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 

The great hall of Coombe Royal had been the 
scene of many strange things, for it had played its 
part in the history of the past, and now, once again 
after long years, ablaze with light, it was to be the 
theatre of events more strange, perhaps, than any 
that its old walls had ever looked down upon. 

It was a room of immense size, the walls wain- 
scoted in old oak and covered with older arms, 
banners, and trophies of the chase, with here and 
there a stiff portrait in a heavily carved and gilt 
frame. A peculiarity that made it unique was that 
the ceiling was domed, and high around the room 
there ran a massive gallery, beyond which could be 
seen passages and doors leading to the various wings 
of the vast rambling house, half fortress, half man- 
sion. At the end farthest from the entrance was a 
large archway, draped with curtains of a rare tap- 
estry, through which a glimpse was obtainable of a 
wide stairway leading to the gallery above. The 
hall was furnished with the heavy solidity of the past. 


1 18 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

Near the fireplace was a large curiously carved easy- 
chair, close to which stood a terrestral globe, and 
behind this there hung from the wall what appeared 
to be a full-length portrait; but beyond the outline 
of a broad frame nothing was visible, for the picture, 
or whatever it was, was draped with a thick, black 
curtain, across which stretched a golden cord, termi- 
nating in a large tassel of the same material. 

This strange and gloomy patch of black, standing 
out in relief in the brilliant light, was sufficient to 
arouse the curiosity of the most stolid and indif- 
ferent, and in that crowded room, perhaps, some 
profane hand might have attempted to lift the veil 
and penetrate the secret, had it not been that all 
eyes and all attention were at the time centred 
upon the figure of a man, who stood near the upper 
end of the room, close to the globe. 

The broad brim of the high-plumed hat he wore — 
for he kept himself covered — threw his face some- 
what in the shadow, so that it was impossible to 
clearly distinguish the features; but from the shadow 
flashed the light of eyes that seemed to penetrate to 
every quarter of the room with a glance as keen as 
a Damascus poniard. Slightly above the medium 
height, with broad, square shoulders, this person 
held himself with a singular dignity, and there was 
an air of command and authority in his every look 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


119 


and gesture. He was plainly but richly clad, and 
the dust still clung to his long, spurred riding boots, 
for he had ridden fast and far that day. But even 
though every movement of that square-built, pow- 
erful frame seemed to show its strength, the keen 
observer would have noticed, how, now and again, 
a spasm of pain seemed to traverse the broad chest, 
and how the gloved hand sought, as it were, support 
in the steel hilt of the long sword he wore close to 
his side. 

Yes, Death was already knocking at Cromwell’s 
door, and he knew it; but none else beside. 

Close to the Lord Protector stood a silent, keen- 
faced soldier, and there was no mistaking dark Ire- 
ton, who, nearly connected with his chief by mar- 
riage, was ever at his side, lending the aid of his 
subtle brain to his vast schemes. Near Ireton was 
a small group of men with long, serious faces. They 
were dressed in sad-coloured garments, and were for 
ever murmuring amongst themselves. They were 
certain members of that Parliament upon which the 
iron hand of their master had closed, and who con- 
cealed their hatred of the dictator by the most 
servile obsequience, whilst they watched and waited 
for the first opportunity to accomplish his over- 
throw. At the time being they formed part of a 
deputation that waited upon Cromwell to prevail 


120 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


upon him to accept as a banner a red lion couchant 
on a white field, with the motto, “ Who shall rouse 
him up ! ” 

Brightly the lights shine on the steel caps, the 
breastplates, and drawn swords of the Ironsides who 
lined the room. Rock, tall and grim, stood behind 
His Highness, Mauley was at the door, and amidst 
those who thronged the hall were Patience Burn- 
side and her father. At the moment this scene 
opened Maunsell had entered the room and spoken 
a few words in a low tone to Cromwell, and then 
a harsh, untunable voice, that sent a thrill through 
all who heard its metallic notes, broke the silence: 

“ It is well for her that she submits; but no news 
of Harden, Colonel? ” 

Maunsell hesitated for a moment, and then an- 
swered quietly: 

“ News in plenty, my Lord; but he is not yet 
taken.” 

“ He lieth concealed within the house ! ” 

All eyes were turned on the speaker. It was 
Rock, and as the words fell from his lips a swift 
glance passed between him and Maunsell — defiance 
on the one hand, anger and surprise on the other. 
The shadow of his hat prevented Cromwell from 
noting this, or if he did, he gave no sign. But there 
were two who marked the look exchanged between 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


I 2 I 


Maunsell and the Cornet, and drew their own con- 
clusions therefrom. One of these was the wary and 
watchful Ireton, and the other Patience Burnside. 

The dark, suspicious mind of Ireton was placed 
on guard on the moment, though he could read no 
further; but Patience Burnside knew. She recalled 
in a flash how Maunsell had returned her the ker- 
chief, and with that subtle intuition which women 
alone possess, she was certain that a new and power- 
ful support had come to aid the man she loved, and 
she pressed forward eagerly, as close as possible to 
the group, to hear each further word that followed. 

Cromwell had turned sharply round, and was eye- 
ing the Cornet. “ Who is this fellow? ” he asked. 

“ Ebenezer Rock, Your Highness,” was the an- 
swer, stoutly given by the old soldier himself, 
“ some time trooper, and now Cornet in the Iron- 
sides.” 

“ Ah ! I remember thee, and how thine eye was 
lost at Dunbar. How knowest this? ” 

The Cornet had a real opportunity; but unkind 
fate was against him. The thought that the great 
Captain recalled his loss on Dunbar Field made him 
glow with pride and zeal; but at that moment he 
caught sight of the comely face of the housekeeper, 
who smiled down upon him from the gallery, where 
she stood amidst a group of retainers, and the terror 


122 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


through which he had passed seemed to rise up once 
more, and chill his faculties. He grew fiery red, 
and after an effort almost shouted out: 

“ I know, General. There is no other refuge — 
had not the Babylonish woman stayed me,” and he 
pointed excitedly to Mistress Battersby — “ she, she 
stayed me with the devices of Delilah/’ he went 
on; and as Cromwell followed Rock’s forefinger 
with his glance, and saw the good dame shrink back 
hastily, something like the faintest flicker of a smile 
unbent his iron lips. Ireton had half turned away 
to conceal his open mirth, and even Maunsell, on 
the cross with anxiety though he was, could scarce 
forbear from laughter. 

He, however, saw his chance, and before Crom- 
well could make any further inquiry put in : 

“ Cornet Rock is a brave soldier as Your High- 
ness knows; but is apt to be headstrong. The house 
has been searched twice, and is guarded on all sides.” 

“ It was not for Cornet Rock to speak as he did. 
His age and service should have brought him dis- 
cretion. I like not reckless chatterers in my service. 
As for the other matter, it is in thy hands, Colonel 
— I look to you to answer for it. What is it, Ire- 
ton? ” 

Rock stepped back glaring with anger, and Ireton 
was about to speak; but at that moment the cur- 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


123 


tains were drawn back, and Dorothy came forward 
slowly. She had tried to school herself to be humble 
and submissive ; but all her fierce pride of race arose 
within her as she saw herself before the conqueror, 
helpless in his hands. Maunsell stepped to her side 
as she entered, and led her up to Cromwell, and as 
he did so Ireton’s keen eyes watched them nar- 
rowly. 

“ She is fair ! ” he muttered under his breath, 
“ and Maunsell, I know, hath a soft heart beneath 
his steel corselet,” and he smiled to himself. 

And then as Maunsell presented his charge, 
Cromwell uncovered, and Dorothy saw before her 
the face of the man who ruled all England with a 
power greater than any had ever held before. That 
rugged, gnarled face was turned towards her, with 
something of sternness in its aspect, but something 
yet of kindly admiration in the watchful eyes, and 
the great General bowed to her with the courtly 
grace that had come to him with his high estate, as 
Dorothy said with an effort, for there was some- 
thing about the very presence of this man that 
seemed to overwhelm her: 

“ Sir ! ’tis a poor welcome that Coombe Royal can 
give you.” 

“ I am glad, Madam, ’tis not so warm a one as it 
gave my Lord Fairfax. What say you, Ireton? ” 


124 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ ’Twas a brave fight; but the face of the Lord 
was averted from us that day.” 

The allusion was an unhappy one, for it was on 
his own doorstep that the old Lord Capel fell, and 
Dorothy's eyes filled with tears, and her heart grew 
wroth within her, and what followed was to make 
her anger hotter, and send to the winds all resolves 
of meek submission. For on Ireton's remark, one 
of the snuff-coated Parliament gentlemen, eager for 
speech, droned out : 

“ But it shone again with the fulness of the sun 
when Your Highness came!” 

“ Behold ! ” said another, “ did not the strong 
towers of stone, the gates of brass fall before the 
voice of Your Highness, even as the walls of Jericho 
fell before the trumpet of the son of Nun ! ” 

“ Peace ! ” said Cromwell harshly. “ Peace, Mas- 
ter Pounceby, and thou too, Master Gristock ! Or 
if thou speakest, bestow thy praises rightly. Let 
them not fall on me, a dry bone, an unprofitable 
servant! Render praise not to the sickle, but to 
the hand that guides it ! ” And then with a sudden 
change of manner, and a modulation of his strange, 
metallic voice, he turned to Dorothy, saying : 
“ Thou wert but a little maid, Madam, when these 
things befell.” 

And back came the spirited answer: 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


125 


“ But old enough to remember, sir ! and to wish 
that the same welcome could be given to General 
Cromwell now as when my father lived.” 

High and clear her voice rang out, and then there 
came a moment of breathless silence, broken by an 
exclamation from Master Gristock: 

“ A most dangerous Malignant ! ” 

Maunsell had stepped up to Ireton, and whispered 
something, and the answer came in as low a tone: 
“ 111 dost say ! May such megrims ever seize the 
daughters of England ! ” 

The crowd had ringed them in now, and all 
watched with eager faces for what would follow. 
The tears had gone from Dorothy’s eyes, and it was 
with a clear, unflinching gaze that she met Crom- 
well’s look — a dark, inscrutable glance, from which 
nothing could be read. At last he said slowly, 
“ Thou hast thy father’s spirit. He was a brave man ! 
God rest his soul! ” 

And now the harsh, strident voice of Mauley came 
from the door: 

“ Yea, but we smote them hip and thigh ! Smote 
we here the Achan that troubled Israel so that he 
fled for evermore ! ” There was a hustling at the 
door, and Cromwell, a grim smile on his face, made 
an excuse for the zealot. 

“ I crave thy pardon for the man’s speech, 


126 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Madam! Such men as he are rough and rude; but 
they are as anvils that have worn out many ham- 
mers, and his keen eye flitted to Pounceby and 
Gristock, a quick, imperceptible glance. Maunsell 
had whispered a warning word, but Dorothy heeded 
it not, for her spirit was aroused, and, fearless of 
consequences, she gave back the answer : 

“ Sir, excuse not your soldier’s speech. A few 
words will not harm a prisoner, and I am a woman, 
and you wage war as safely here as at Basing 
House!” 

A shiver went round the listeners at the words; 
but all unknown to herself, Dorothy had taken the 
safest course, and her courage and spirit had gone 
to the heart of a man himself the bravest amongst 
the brave. A lesser spirit than Cromwell’s might 
have been roused to anger by the petulant speech 
of the girl; but with him it was different, although 
his tone was grave and quiet as he answered: 

“ Madam, I wage no war with women ! ” And 
then, with a sudden stern dignity that for the 
moment utterly overawed the girl, he continued, 
“ But to me, its humblest servant, the Parliament 
hath entrusted the peace and order of this land — 
and there shall be peace ! Lady Dorothy Capel ! 
thou hast been ill-advised. Thou hast aided and 
abetted the followers of Charles Stuart. It is known 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


127 


that thou hast given shelter to that most dangerous 
rebel, Christopher Harden, whose life is capitally 
forfeit to the State ! ” 

“ He hath troubled Israel sorely ! ” put in Mas- 
ter Gristock; and Cromwell turned sharply on the 
man, but ere he could speak, Maunsell had stepped 
forward on Dorothy’s behalf. 

“ My Lord, I will in future answer for this 

lady ” 

“ But I — I answer for myself ! Sir, I do aver 
that I aided Sir Christopher Harden, and I will aid 
him further yet ! Nay, I fear not your frown ! Ask 
your own daughters if they would not do the like 
for their promised husbands ! ” 

And a face, white with unutterable agony, drew 
back behind Burnside as Patience heard the words. 
“ It is true, then; and he lied — oh, traitor heart! ” 
she gasped, and a good woman had become a devil. 

Maunsell had turned with a quick gesture of de- 
spair as the girl’s voice rang out, to meet Ireton’s 
searching glance, and then they both turned to 
where Cromwell stood. But he seemed to be stand- 
ing as if in a dream, and his hand clutched tightly 
at his sword-hilt. Yet it was Dorothy alone who 
saw there was no anger in his eyes, but only an 
unspeakable suffering, and that perhaps he had 
scarcely heard her speech. 


128 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Through the intense silence there came to all 
the rapid drumming of approaching hoofs, a sound 
that grew nearer and nearer each moment; once 
there rang through the night the challenge of a 
sentry, and there was a moment's slacking of pace, 
and then the rider, whoever he was, rode onwards 
on his breakneck course. Something of attention 
was distracted from Cromwell, and eyes and faces 
began to turn to the open door of the hall, and a 
murmur of whispers arose. At this moment, Crom- 
well, who had stood for a space facing Dorothy, 
but with eyes which she alone saw were not for her, 
but looked far beyond, as it were into space, turned 
suddenly to Maunsell, and covering himself, said in 
quick, rasping tones, “ Colonel Maunsell, you have 
my orders concerning this lady. See that they are 
carried out ! ” 

Maunsell bowed, and as he did so there was a 
thunder of hoofs at the hall door, someone sprang 
from the horse, and, dust begrimed and with bleed- 
ing spurs, hurried in. A word from him and the 
sentries at the door gave way; another hurried 
word, and he had crossed the room. There were 
many there who knew him, and Pounceby and 
Gristock shrank aside on his coming, for they and 
their house loved not Colonel Pride. The crowd, 
however, irpped ( ed them, and the fierce soldier was 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


129 


by their side almost ere they knew it. He pushed 
past them with a contemptuous gesture, and step- 
ping up to Cromwell, said out aloud, in a voice 
half-choked with dust: 

“ Victory, your Highness ! The Dutch are ut- 
terly broken! Van Tromp is killed, and all that 
remains of the Holland fleet lies skulking in the 
Texel. ’Twas a bloody battle and a glorious vic- 
tory.” 

“ Hurrah!” 

It was Ireton’s cheer, and a#the ringing shout 
went out, it was taken up again and again, and 
bright swords flashed in the bright light, and the 
grim Ironsides pressed forward to surround their 
great chief. 

The fever of the thing took all present, and Dor- 
othy’s voice was added to those who cheered the 
gallant deeds of her countrymen. 

Alone in the throng Cromwell stood silent, lean- 
ing on his sword. Suddenly he stretched out his 
arm to Pride, and the veteran soldier’s hand met 
that of his chief in a warm clasp. Then, when the 
cheering was over, and the high excitement had for 
the moment subsided, this strange man, who cov- 
ered his aims and dreams with the language of the 
Prophets, lifted his hand, saying solemnly: 

“The kings of the earth girt their loins and 


130 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


came forth to destroy Israel! But the Lord hath 
stretched forth His hand, and lo ! they are consumed 
in the fire therefrom ! ” And then, lifting his hat 
from his head, he added, “ To Him be thanks and 
praise ! ” 

Down swept the flashing, upraised swords, and 
reverend heads were bowed in silence, broken at 
last by a single voice with a deep “ Amen ! ” 

And now the Lord Protector looked highly 
around him. “ So perish all the enemies of Eng- 
land ! ” he said, covering himself once more, and 
turning to Ireton, they exchanged a few words in 
a low tone together, after which he called to Maun- 
sell, “ Colonel, give me thine arm. There are things 
I would discuss with thee alone.” Saying this, he 
linked his arm in Maunsell’s, and the twain passed 
slowly out of the hall, followed by Ireton and Pride, 
and none else beside. 


CHAPTER X 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 

In one of the state rooms at Coombe Royal, a 
man sat busily writing at a large table, covered with 
a litter of papers. At his elbow was a lamp of 
quaint workmanship, supported on a stand made 
of a brazen asp, with two rubies set in the head for 
eyes. 

The head of the serpent was bent slightly down, 
and its fiery glances were fixed upon the man, as 
if it were a living thing, watching the silent worker; 
whilst the light itself, soft and mellow, lit up the 
rugged features of the Lord Protector of England; 
but in so doing showed how thin and sunken the 
face was, and that the red flush on his cheek came 
not from the strength of health. 

Near a window, which was thrown wide open — 
for the moonlit night was warm — three men stood, 
conversing in whispers, and ever and again glancing 
at the bowed head and broad, bent shoulders of 
their chief. They were, Ireton, Maunsell, and the 
tireless Pride, who had but taken a moment to 


132 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


quench his thirst, and now stood, still dust be- 
grimed and hot, in ceaseless attendance on his loved 
General. 

: At last their whispering converse ceased, and 
they stood listening silently to the angry rasp of 
the pen, as Cromwell’s heavy hand drove it across 
the paper. So for about the space of a half-hour 
he wrote, then he carefully tied up three packets. 
These he sealed and addressed, and finally, throw- 
ing down his pen, turned sharply round. 

“ Maunsell ! ” he said, “ thou hast post riders 
ready? ” 

“ Yes, your Highness.” 

“Then let these three despatches be sent at 
once,” and Cromwell was about to hand Maunsell 
the papers, when he checked himself with an after- 
thought. “ No ! ” he continued, “ Ireton will see 
to this; and, Pride! go thou and rest — thou need’st 
it sorely; Maunsell and I have certain matters to 
discuss.” The two bowed and took their departure, 
Ireton with the despatches in his hand. As the 
door opened, Cromwell’s quick eye caught the 
figure of a sentry in the passage without. 

“ Remove the sentry ! ” he said sharply. “ It is 
safe here.” 

Ireton stopped and hesitated; but Cromwell re- 
peated his order, and the tone of it was not to be 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 


133 


denied. A quick look passed between Pride and 
Ireton. They said nothing, however, but obeyed, 
and a moment after the door closed their measured 
footsteps could be heard dying away in the dis- 
tance. 

For a few seconds Cromwell said nothing, but 
sat in a brooding silence; and then he turned to 
Maunsell. “ Maunsell, I have had good news, news 
of the best, and ill news, news of the worst, to-day. ,, 

“ But the good news was great,” and Maunsell’s 
firm glance sought Cromwell’s face with a ques- 
tioning look. He knew all this was but the pre- 
amble to what was uppermost in the Lord Pro- 
tector’s mind; but what this was it was impossible 
for him to guess. 

" Ay ! great indeed ! ” assented Cromwell. “ And 
the wolves that snarl round England have been 
checked for long; but knowest thou that Willis is 
dead — slain in an idle brawl? ” 

“ I knew it not,” said Maunsell gravely as he 
began to see the drift of the Protector’s thoughts, 
and wondered how much he knew, “ and yet,” he 
continued, “ there was only one other ending fitter 
for a traitor and a spy ” 

“ And that? ” 

“ A knotted rope.” 

The Protector smiled grimly. “ I will bear that 


!34 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


advice in mind, Maunsell,” and then, with an ap- 
parent carelessness of tone, “ Hast thou the pass- 
port for Monsieur Falaise? ” 

There was nothing in Cromwell's voice that 
showed he was making anything more than an 
ordinary inquiry; but light came to Maunsell with 
the question, and he guessed at once that in some 
strange manner his secret was discovered. It was 
not so, as we know; but Maunsell was playing a 
rubber with the greatest general of the age; and a 
slight hint from Ireton had been sufficient for that 
astute brain to play a deadly coup. Maunsell saw 
in a moment that he was forestalled and foiled. It 
had been his intention to give the precious paper 
to Dorothy that night, after the audience, and it 
lay now in his breast pocket. This would have been 
done, had not the opportunity been taken from 
him by this compulsory attendance on the Lord 
Protector, and so, careless and indifferent as Crom- 
well’s tone was, Maunsell felt the danger in the 
air, and nerved himself to meet it. 

“ Hast heard, Maunsell? Hast thou the pass- 
port?” 

The strange, harsh voice had a sterner ring in its 
tone, and Antony Maunsell answered simply: 

“ I have it, your Highness ! ” 

“ Then give it to me. It is of no use longer.” 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 


135 


The blow had fallen, and without a word, yet 
with a sinking heart, Maunsell handed the paper 
to Cromwell, who, taking it from him, ran his keen 
glance over it, and then tore it slowly into a hun- 
dred fragments. 

“ And now, Colonel Maunsell,” he said when he 
had done this, and there was an ominous threat in 
his voice, “ this is well done, is it not, and makes 
assurance surer? ” 

They were two strong men, now face to face. 
Cromwell’s lips were set like iron, and the won- 
derful eyes blazed into Maunsell’s glance as though 
they would consume him with their fire, but he was 
met by a look as grimly determined as his own. 

“ I play not with riddles, my Lord. Make thy 
meaning plainer.” 

Cromwell laughed shortly. “ What didst thou 
say was the fittest end for a traitor? ” 

Swift as rapiers their glances crossed at the 
speech, and Maunsell’s hand for one brief moment 
sought his sword-hilt, and then fell to his side. 
With a mighty effort he controlled himself, and 
forced himself to answer calmly. 

“ My Lord, your meaning has been made plain, 
but I will make your doubts as clear as day. Har- 
den is my kinsman. He was once my friend. Yet 
if but a few hours ago he had fallen into my hands 


136 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


he would have been your prisoner. But now I am 
myself again, thank God! And I have done with 
this. There are others who can better carry out 
your orders than Antony Maunsell.” 

Cromwell had half risen from his chair as Maun- 
sell spoke, and he exclaimed now in a voice half 
choked with anger: 

“ You ! You dare deny me? ” 

“ Dare is not the word to use to me. No sword 
has been so keen, no heart more steadfast in thy 
cause as mine. But here, in this thing, I stop. 
There are tasks which one man may not set another. 
There are things which a man may not do, and 
for me this is one of them; and as between man 
and man, Oliver Cromwell, thou knowest I am 
right.” 

With a quick, impatient gesture Cromwell sprang 
to his feet and paced the room with hurried strides. 
Then as suddenly he stopped close to Maunsell, and 
asked : 

“ Lies there no other cause within thy heart? ” 

Maunsell knew and felt that those swift, far- 
searching eyes read deep into his soul, but he had 
passed through his tortures, and his hopes were 
dead, and that one secret of his heart would die 
with him. 

“ My Lord,” he said, “ I have answered.” 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 


137 


So for a moment they stood facing each other, 
and then Cromwell spoke in slow, measured tones. 

“ Colonel Maunsell, I will not press thee in this. 
It is well for thee that I bear in mind thy services 
in the past, but from this moment Pride will take 
thy place here. I want no lukewarm hearts about 
me. Thou art free to leave Coombe Royal the day 
I leave, but not till then, and I want thy word not 
to quit this house until I give thee orders. Have I 
this?” 

Maunsell bowed — he dared not trust himself to 
speak — and left the room; but even as he left he 
realised that at one stroke as fair a career as man 
ever carved out for himself was shivered to nothing, 
and yet he was happier at heart. 

iWhen the door closed behind him Cromwell 
stood pondering for a little space, and then, walking 
to the open window, placed his hands on the 
mullions, and looked out into the night. His eyes 
rested on the dim landscape, but his thoughts were 
not with its silver, shimmering beauty. All was 
silent and still, though now and again the sharp call 
of a sentry came to his ears, and once there was 
the beat of galloping hoofs as a post rode through 
the night from Coombe Royal. 

“ Blue eyes and golden hair, and a fair face,” his 
thoughts ran on. “ Ay ! they win against all, and 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


138 

but that I want Harden — he is too sharp a thorn 
in my side — I would let things pass. But Maun- 
sell! Old friend and comrade! What wind hath 
moved him to this course? Ireton must be right. 
Fool, to think his grizzled hair could avail him. 
And I must use the iron hand once more, I fear,” 
and he stretched out his hand and laughed grimly. 
“ Twill be ill for Maunsell, and ill for Harden, and 
ill for that pretty maid, I fear.” 

With this he turned from the window and paced 
the room once more, and then the fevered brain 
thought of rest. He passed into an inner room, 
but came out again almost immediately, for the 
demon of sleeplessness had clutched him, and for 
him there could be no rest. 

On a small table a decanter of wine and flask of 
water had been placed. He poured himself out 
some wine, diluted it with the water, and drank it 
slowly. Then he turned to his work-table once 
more, and the ruby-eyed asp, on which the lamp 
rested, bent over his bowed head. 

For a time he pored over the map, but for once 
the great brain seemed worn and tired; then, push- 
ing it aside, his eye caught an unopened envelope. 
This he tore open hastily, and as he read his face 
flushed with hot anger, and his strong hand crushed 
the paper which it held. It was nothing less than 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 


139 


a letter of advice from Pounceby and Gristock to 
disband the army, and to restore to the Parliament 
the complete control of affairs, with a malignant 
suggestion in its humble wording that the time had 
come even for his Highness to take the repose and 
rest which his unparalleled exertions for his country 
demanded. 

All thoughts of Harden and Maunsell were car- 
ried away on the instant in the gust of wrath that 
swept over the Lord Protector, and ill would it have 
fared with Master Pounceby and Master Gristock 
had they stood in his presence then. 

But through the impertinence of the demand 
Cromwell’s far-reaching eye saw that a slow reac- 
tion was setting in, and that men’s hearts wanted a 
change, although their lips did not express it, 
except in secret whispers, for fear of that iron hand 
that could strike so surely, and almost as in a vision 
he saw the day when those whom he had conquered 
would win all back again. 

“ Not whilst I live ! ” he gasped, and as he uttered 
the words there came to him again the warning, 
and for a moment the broad chest heaved in its 
agony. But he conquered the pain with an effort, 
and rose from his seat. He dared not yield, but it 
taxed all the strength of his iron frame and mighty 
will to win. 


140 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ I grow too much of a clerk,” he muttered to 
himself, as he glanced at the table with its litter 
of papers; “ I will go out and do the rounds my- 
self; it may bring some sleep afterwards.” 

With this he took his plumed hat, and opening 
the door noiselessly, stepped out into the corridor, 
and as he did so two dark figures came out of the 
shadow into the dim light of a lamp that burned 
outside the door. 

They were Ireton and Pride, and Cromwell knew 
why they were there, yet he asked: 

“ You here, friends?” 

1 “ Your Highness removed the sentry,” said Ire- 

ton, simply, but Colonel Pride said nothing, only 
his face looked up at Cromwell, with something of 
the wistful affection in the eyes that a faithful watch- 
dog has. 

“ I thank thee ! ” said Cromwell. “ Come, we will 
do the rounds.” 

“ Is there any need, my Lord? Why not rest, 
and leave it to Pride or myself? ” 

“ Rest ! It is for rest I do this. There is a 
strange fever upon me, and perhaps the night air 
will bring me sleep. I want sleep.” 

There was a weariness of tone in the voice that 
went to those faithful hearts, and Ireton would have 
urged his point again, but Pride stayed him with 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 


141 

a gesture, saying, in a tone of affected cheerful- 
ness: 

“ Come, my Lord ! ’twill be old times back again 
— come ! ” With this he led the way, and Crom- 
well followed, with Ireton by his side. 

As they walked onwards along the long corridor, 
Ireton whispered, “ Hast put Maunsell to the test, 
my Lord.” 

“ Ay ! ” replied Cromwell, “ and he hath failed.” 

Ireton said no more, and they went on in silence, 
descending a spiral stairway that ended in a small 
octagonal room, from which a huge door of carved 
oak led into the great hall. At the moment, how- 
ever, the door was closed. 

As they reached the room, Ireton asked in a low 
voice, “ Shall I arrest him? ” 

“No! That may come later, and it may ruin 
all if done now. I want two birds, Ireton — the 
raven and the popinjay! See here, Pride. From 
this moment you take Maunsell’s place here, and 
keep him under watch; but no arrest, unless he 
attempts to quit the house.” 

Cromwell spoke in a half-whisper, and Pride an- 
swered as lowly : 

“ I understand, your Highness. I would say, 
however, that there is some doubt if Harden is 
within the house.” 


142 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Ireton shook his head, but Pride continued: 
“ Ere I joined Ireton on the watch at your door, 
I did the rounds myself, and a search-party coming 
in brought with them a man of ours, dead.” 

“ Who? ” asked Cromwell. 

“ Tutbury — Sergeant Tutbury — a brave man and 
a good soldier. There had been a hard fight, and 
Tutbury fell with a rapier thrust in his heart, and 
’twas Harden’s hand on that rapier-hilt, and if so, 
he is gone.” 

Something like an oath hissed between Ireton’s 
teeth; but Cromwell, after a moment’s thought, 
asked : 

“ Was there light enough for them to see — had 
they a lantern?” 

“No! No light but the moon, though that is 
almost as clear as day.” 

“ But day will make it a certainty. Ireton and 
Pride, make it thy duty to visit the spot with the 
dawn, and watch which way the footsteps lead. By 
Heaven! if Harden hath gone, Maunsell shall not 
escape a traitor’s fate ! But come, I want the air.” 

Their converse had been in low tones, which 
echoed softly up the spiral way above them; but the 
sound could not penetrate the massive door of oak, 
and as Cromwell spoke he placed his hand against 
it, and it swung open noiselessly, showing the great 


BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 


143 


hall still partly in light, and showing, too, a group 
of startled men in sad-coloured garments, who, 
huddled together in the centre of the room, near 
the terrestrial globe, were staring with dismayed 
faces at the grim apparition in the door. 


CHAPTER XI 

THE IMAGE OF THE KING 

For one brief moment Cromwell stood in the 
doorway, his fiery glance burning on the shuffling 
and uneasy group before him, and as they looked 
they caught with added terror the glitter of steel 
behind that stern figure, and saw, half in shadow 
and half in light, the menacing features of Ireton 
and Pride. 

Then Cromwell came forward with quick, hasty 
steps, and his harsh, abrupt voice rang out: 

“ You hold a late meeting here, sirs! ” 

They turned their dismayed faces from one to 
another, as if for help or inspiration; but no one 
spoke, though they huddled closer near the globe, 
and a half-scornful smile flitted across Cromwell's 
lips, as he waited for his answer. 

Master Pounceby nudged Master Gristock, but 
the latter, a roll of papers in his hand, fell to folding 
them hastily, and muttering something under his 
breath, made way for himself to the back of the 
144 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


U5 


group, whence he peered at Cromwell over the 
shoulders of his fellows. 

Pounceby found himself nearest the Lord Pro- 
tector, and to him the next question was addressed. 

“ Well, Master Pounceby, in another place I have 
heard thee talk, and talk, and talk — hast naught to 
say now?” Pounceby saw the dangerous smile 
hovering over the Protector’s lips, he felt the irony 
of the tone, and he was not wanting in courage. He 
turned like an angry rat. 

“We were but discussing here, in all loyalty, cer- 
tain matters of state, your Highness.” 

“ I see ! An informal council.” 

“ We were hoping, in all humility, that a favour- 
able answer would be given to our petition, which 
hath the support of our Honourable House.” 

Cringe as he would, Master Pounceby could not 
conceal the spiteful light in his glance, and his stand 
gave heart of grace to his companions, who mur- 
mured something that sounded like “Yea, yea!” 
and began to press forward, with a curiosity that 
was partly restrained by fear. 

A little in advance of his fellows, Pounceby stood 
hat in hand, and as he glanced up slyly, he saw that 
his barb had struck; but he saw, too, how the bright 
eyes of Cromwell seemed to sink far back in their 
sockets, and the blue line of a swollen vein rise high 


146 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


upon his forehead. Pounceby saw all this with fear; 
but it was too late to draw back, and gathering all 
his courage together, he continued in his sharp, 
high-pitched voice : “ That petition, as your High- 
ness is aware, humbly set forth that the time hath 
come to disband the armed force that eats into the 
vitals of the nation.” 

And here his words were cut short by a burst of 
derisive laughter that broke from Ireton and Pride 
— mocking, cruel laughter, that stung like a lash, 
and Pounceby stopped with a snarl on his lip. 

But Cromwell, with a motion of his hand, com- 
manded silence. 

“ Peace ! ” he said, and his voice was thick with 
restrained anger, “ I will give them their answer, 
once for all — these buzzers of vain words — these 
idle praters. And you,” he continued, turning on 
Pounceby, “ this is thy demand : Reduce my ships ! 
Disband mine army! Thou hast heard it Ireton, 
and thou, too, Pride ! Shall we unlace the bucklers 
of this land? ” 

He stood for a moment, his clenched right hand 
half raised, and then the lightning of his glance 
fell once more upon the group of malcontents, who 
stood with shrinking hearts before the storm they 
had raised. 

“ And this is thy demand? ” he repeated. “ Dost 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


M7 


know its meaning? See here ! ” With a step for- 
wards he reached the globe, and spun it round with 
a nervous gesture of his hand, and as he suddenly 
arrested it, he placed his finger upon a small spot 
marked on the sea, his face still dark with anger; 
but his words coming clearly and freely now. 

“ Seest thou this speck upon God's earth, which 
men call England? Mark well its size — how poor, 
how small! And here, and here, and here, the 
swords thou wouldst send to rust, the sails thou 
wouldst furl, have spread her might. And thou and 
thine would make her, who hath grown so big, a 
child again ! ” 

He checked his speech, and searched them with 
his glance, and as they fell backwards from him, he 
continued : 

“ Hast naught to say? Where are the ready 
tongues, the scheming brains that would destroy 
their country? Why silent now? Sirs, I want no 
light of thine to guide me. Though I dwell in 
Meshec, which is prolonging, in Kedar, which sig- 
nified darkness, yet the Lord God will not forsake 
me. Begone! Thou hast had thy answer — be- 
gone ! ” 

They waited to hear no more, but fled like 
frightened sheep, Pounceby alone preserving some 
dignity of manner. He was the last to go; but 


148 the lord protector 

as Pride closed the door behind him, he seized 
Pounceby’s wrist, and placed his cold hand for one 
brief moment on the steel hilt of his sword, whis- 
pering as he did so : 

“ In a week this clears thy nest.” 

Then with a laugh he came back, and, standing 
near Ireton, made a slight gesture towards the door 
as he said: 

“ The corn doth ripen for the sickle.” 

And the answer came with a low, grim tone. 

“ Ay ! 'twill be a full harvest we garner.” 

And then they turned to Cromwell as if awaiting 
his further commands, but he had moved slightly 
from them, close to the globe once more, and was 
spinning it round with an idle hand; yet beneath the 
broad brim and scarlet, drooping plumes of his hat 
they saw from his knitted brows and the far-off look 
in his eyes that the Protector was lost in reverie. 
So they drew back from him, and, standing in the 
shadow of the great curtains that covered the arch- 
way, conversed together in low, earnest whispers, 
leaving their chief to his thoughts. 

Now, though the room was in light, the gallery 
above was in deep gloom, so that neither the two 
whisperers by the archway, nor the brooding figure 
at the globe, saw a door in the corridor above open 
noiselessly, and a slight, dark-cloaked figure steal 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


149 


forth softly. They heard not the light footsteps, 
which arrested themselves at the sight in the hall, 
and then, like a thing of air, the figure slipped back 
into the shadow of a pillar, and glanced down with 
wondering, curious eyes upon those below. 

It was Dorothy herself, and as she leaned forward 
to get a better view, Cromwell suddenly turned 
towards Ireton and Pride, and called out: 

“ Come, sirs, the rounds ! we waste time here.” 

They came up to him, and as they approached 
Ireton said, “ Think you it was a waste of time to 
come here, your Highness? Remember what we 
have heard.” 

From on high the watcher saw Cromwell’s feat- 
ures darken. 

“ Can I forget? ” he answered; and then, in bitter 
iteration, “ The Parliament would rid the nation 
of its strength, reduce our ships, disband our army, 
and gather to itself the spoils that we have won.” 

A short, mocking laugh broke from Pride, and 
he looked down on his shining sword-hilt, caressing 
it the while with his fingers, but Ireton said simply : 

“ Ay ! they talk much.” 

“ But here, as I stood near that thing ” — and 
Cromwell pointed to the globe — “ their words came 
back to me, and with them a new light. We must 
obey; they speak with the voice of the nation.” 


150 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


What hand could lift the impenetrable veil that 
shrouded the secrets of Cromwell’s heart? Who 
can tell what schemes, what thoughts were passing 
through his brain when he stood there dreaming 
by the globe? Be that as it may, his words fell 
upon his hearers like a sudden, stunning blow. 

Pride looked up in blank astonishment, and Ire- 
ton stepped a half-pace back, but rallied himself as 
he burst out: 

“ The voice of the nation ! That babbling 
crowd ! ” And then he came close up to Cromwell, 
as he said in deep, thrilling tones : “ My Lord ! 
My Lord! The nation speaks with another voice. 
It cries out from the house-tops, but it is not heard. 

It calls for its ” He hesitated and faltered, and 

Pride put in: 

“ Its David.” 

It had come at last. Was it for this that Crom- 
well played with them when he affected to yield to 
Pounceby’s demand? No man may tell. But now 
that the offer was made he either could not or 
would not understand, though for once his glance 
shunned theirs, and he spoke as a man speaks who 
covers his thoughts with words that may mean 
everything or nothing. He seemed to commune 
with himself aloud rather than to answer them 
directly. “ There is a strange itch grown upon their 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


spirit,” he muttered; “ they thwart our labours, dry 
our energies. They daily clog the wheels of gov- 
ernment.” And Ireton put in softly, “ Why, then, 
endure their tyranny? ” 

And now Cromwell met their glance full and 
fair, but they read nothing behind those rugged, 
impassive features. 

“ I must be a slave to submit to their humours ! 
And I have a remedy,” he said in harsh, angry ac- 
cents, and Ireton now played his great card. 

“ Take it, my Lord ! The time is ripe. Lift but 
your hand, and to-morrow sees you King of Eng- 
land. The people cry for a king. Let Israel have 
her desire.” 

With bated breath and straining eyes Dorothy 
listened to these words, and watched the scene. 
From the grey gloom above she saw Cromwell start 
back as if in astonishment; but she saw, too, the 
light of triumph that played forth from his eyes. 
The gallery was in darkness, and the three below 
were absorbed in the great game they played. She 
would hear more at whatever risk, and swiftly and 
silently she slipped forwards, and, gaining the stair- 
way, descended it, until at last she stood where the 
heavy folds of the curtain partly covered the wains- 
coting, and thus securely hidden became a witness 
to all that was to follow. 


152 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Ireton had thrown his die, and now abided the 
issue, a smile on his lips, and confidence on his 
brow. Pride stood erect and upright, smiling, too, 
a grim, triumphant smile, for in his heart of hearts 
he believed that they had won. 

But now that it was all as clear as broad noon, 
now that he had but to stretch forth his hand, 
Cromwell paused. That strange subtle mind of his, 
as quick to resolve as it was to execute, for once 
hesitated, and he tried to set their offer aside. 

“ Nay, Ireton ! ” he .said. “ King ! What want 
I with such a feather in my cap! ” 

Ireton stroked his dark moustache. He saw and 
understood this fencing; but the blunter Pride 
pressed forwards with hot, eager words. 

“ The people wish for it. They murmur mightily. 
There are many would feel the easier were thou but 
named King. Obedience follows the very word ! ” 

In his excitement Pride placed his hand upon 
Cromwell's sleeve, and Ireton approaching closer, 
urged : 

“ Lift but your hand, my Lord. The time has 
come ! ” 

Ay ! Had it? Once more the blue veins rose on 
the Lord Protectors forehead, and his frame shook 
as with a tremendous inward struggle. Had the 
time come? Was the great step to be taken? Was 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


153 


Israel to have her desire; or was this but an allur- 
ing, blazing phantom that led to destruction, utter 
and complete? 

He almost tore himself from Pride’s grasp, and 
stepped back, his hands clenched, his face grim and 
set. In that one moment as he stood before them 
a storm of memories passed over his soul, and his 
piercing, far-reaching mind looked, with the glance 
of a prophet, into the future. 

He had done things which no great nor good 
man could do. He had achieved success where 
none but a great and good man could succeed. He 
had never flinched before. Nay, not even at the 
dreadful moment which ended in the crime on the 
block before the Banquet Hall at Whitehall. But 
this — but this! Something in his heart of hearts 
told him it was impossible. Light came to that 
lonely, storm-tossed soul — light to see, and strength 
to resist. And the watcher behind the curtains saw 
the strong face turn from bronze to ashy grey, and 
the lips grow black with the violence of his emotion, 
and then she heard a voice, harsh and choking with 
restrained passion, as Cromwell burst forth: 

“ Thou two ! Thou hast done wrong to tempt 
me. King! God hath blasted the very name! 
Nay, no more; I will hear no more, I say! On this 
let there be silence for ever.” 


154 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


He turned from them, leaving the twain with 
downcast faces, staring at each other, and stepped 
across the room, until at last he stood near the 
curtain, scarce an arm's length from the listener. 
Dorothy heard his quick, short breathing, she heard 
the muttered words, “ King ! King ! ” and then, as 
she leaned hard back, she saw his hand grasp the 
heavy folds, as if to draw them aside, and her heart 
became as ice. But as suddenly as he had stretched 
it forth Cromwell dropped his arm, and turning, 
went slowly back. 

“ Pride," he said, and his voice still shook, though 
he was now outwardly calm, “ I must rid myself of 
these chattering jays. The day we reach London, 
go thou and turn them from their seats. Close their 
doors ! Tell them their sins have overtaken them ! ” 

Pride’s grey eyes gleamed like opals. “ I’ll fail 
not in the task, my Lord! ’’ he said, “ On the faith 
of a poor gentleman!’’ And then he drew back, 
muttering under his breath, “ ’Tis the first step — 
and then, perhaps ! ” 

But Cromwell had yet more to say. He placed 
his hand on Ireton’s shoulder, and the harsh voice 
was deep and grave with reproof. 

“ And thou, who art as a son to me; what devil 
sent thee to set this snare before me? ’’ 

For once Ireton failed to grasp the situation, 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


155 


and, like a desperate gambler, made yet another 
throw. 

“Thou wilt not take thine own?” he urged. 
“ Thou wilt not give the people their desire? ” 

Cromwell’s hand fell from his shoulder. 

“Again!” he said bitterly. And then, with a 
burst of passion, “ Leave me, you two — leave me ! 
I would be alone with my thoughts ! ” 

With a shrug of his shoulders Ireton stepped 
back, and, taking Pride’s arm, the two passed out 
through the archway, brushing by Dorothy as they 
went, and as they passed she heard Ireton’s dark 
whisper : 

“ The seed is sown.” 

For a little space Cromwell stood, his hands 
clasped behind him, his eyes fixed on a far-off 
dreamland; then he turned, and wearily sank into 
a huge arm-chair, muttering something to himself 
that Dorothy could not hear. 

As for her, it was impossible for her to move, 
and so seized was she by the fascination of the 
scene, that even were there an opportunity of slip- 
ping back and escaping, she was to not have availed 
herself of it. 

She had discovered a secret that none suspected 
before, and her brave Royalist heart was hot within 
her at the daring of those who would have taken 


156 the lord protector 

the seat of God’s anointed. And yet with this all, 
there was a strange pity for that great and lonely 
figure that sat there brooding before her. 

After all he had refused! This would be news 
indeed for the exile at St. Germains to hear ! And 
Harden would bear it to his King from her. For a 
moment she thought she had seen enough; but 
perhaps more would come, and she would wait. 

One by one the minutes passed, one by one the 
tall candles sank out, sputtering in their sockets 
until, at last, save where two large lamps burned 
at the end of the room, throwing that strange black 
square, with the golden cord across it, in full relief, 
and surrounding the figure of the Lord Protector 
with light, all else was in a deep gloom. 

Cromwell made no movement. His head had 
sunk forward on his breast, and so still and silent 
was he that Dorothy fancied he slept. In her eager 
curiosity she was about to step forth and scan more 
carefully the features of this man, who had done 
such great things, and who had crowned them all 
by putting aside a temptation the like of which, as 
Dorothy thought, had never fallen to man before. 

To her he had always been a grim phantom of 
terror. She had been taught to hate and scorn him, 
but she could scorn no longer, and even the very 
hatred was softened by an instinctive admiration 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


157 


that she could not control. In the glare of the 
audience room that very night she had seen him 
hold himself as a king, as one whom God’s own 
hand had crowned, and now the Titan was alone 
and unmasked, fighting with himself a tremendous 
conflict. She would see this to the end. 

She made a half-step forwards from her place of 
concealment, and then as swiftly moved back, the 
shuddering folds of the curtain just covering her 
in time as Cromwell lifted his head and glanced 
highly around. 

“ King! ” he said aloud, and the vast, silent room 
echoed back the word as it came forth in ringing 
accents. “ King ! They would have me king ! ” 
And now there was a bitter scorn in his tone. “ An 
empty name! For am I not this day numbered 
amongst the kings of the earth? I who have to-day 
refused a crown. Yet have I all but that shadow 
— the name of king.” He rose from the chair, and 
paced the room. He seemed to Dorothy to bulk 
huge and vast in the shadow, and then, as he came 
back into the circle of light, he halted once more 
before the globe, and his face was from Dorothy, 
though she heard every word of that strange self- 
communion where he spoke out his heart aloud. 

“ A crown ! I — the poor gentleman of Hunting- 
don, on five-score pounds a year — then colonel of 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


>58 

horse, general, leader of the army — and now Lord 
Protector of England ! A crown for me ! ” 

Once more he placed his sunburnt hand upon 
the globe, and made the stand rock as he shook it 
to and fro. 

“ This small patch of soil, this sea-bound island, 
that I under Providence have lifted so high amongst 
the nations, queen of the seas, arbiter of destinies, 
sued to by kings. Behold! their great ones are 
without, and suitors in the gate — French, Spaniard, 
and Venetian. My fleets sweep the seas; my armies 
shake the land; my enemies — God hath made them 
as stubble to this blade. He half drew the long 
sword at his side as he spoke, and then struck it 
home again in the scabbard with an angry snap, 
as he continued : “ What need I of kingship ” — 
and here his voice failed somewhat — “ save a line 
of kings? ” 

And now there came to Dorothy a swift and sud- 
den inspiration, such as might reach the brain of 
woman, but never that of man. 

With a rapid movement she put aside the curtain, 
and, stepping boldly forwards, stood by the black 
veil on the wall, her hand holding the golden tassel 
attached to the cord that crossed it. Her dark 
cloak had fallen back, showing the graceful, white- 
robed figure beneath. A collar of brilliants clasped 


THE IMAGE OF THE KING 


159 


her throat, and from under the waves of her fair 
hair the blue eyes shone with a high resolve. With 
bated breath and a beating heart she waited. Crom- 
well should never forget this night, and it was her 
hand that would save him from a crown. 

He — Cromwell — was silent once more, but the 
struggle was past, and for the moment he was victor 
over himself. Once again he spoke aloud, his voice 
coming forth in clear, trumpet tones. 

“ Ay ! my memory shall live ! England cannot 
forget me — I who have placed her in the forefront 

of the nations; and yet ” He paused, and the 

words came slowly, in deep, vibrating tones. “ It 
haunts me still — that phantom of the past — the 
dead face of the King. No, no!” he continued, 
“ he was a traitor. He deserved to die. ’Twas 
God’s own doom. Is there one who can accuse 
me?” 

“The King!” 

Shrill and high rang out the girl’s voice, and as 
she called out she pulled the cord, and the falling 
veil displayed, in the bright light that shone upon 
it, a full-length portrait of the martyr King. 

Cromwell had wheeled round sharply at the cry, 
his hand on the hilt of his sword. For one brief 
instant there was a deadly menace in his glance, 
but then he saw another face, that looked down 


160 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

upon him from the wall — a pale, proud face, with 
sad eyes that gazed upon him as if in ineffable pity, 
and he drew himself back, his face grey, his lips 
ashen. 

“ The King ! ” he gasped. “ The King ! ” 

The next moment his hat was in his hand, and 
he stood staring at the portrait as if transfixed. And 
as from a far distance Dorothy’s voice came to 
him. 

“ Yes ! the King, General Cromwell. Your King 
and mine.” And then, in pity for him, she left him; 
but as she passed up the wide stairway into the 
gallery Dorothy glanced down. Cromwell had not 
moved. He was still standing before the picture, 
both hands resting on the hilt of his sword. His 
hat lay at his feet — the scarlet plumes like a splash 
of blood on the dark floor; and on his face unutter- 
able regret and remorse. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS. 

Patience Burnside sat at her window, staring 
with hot, arid eyes into the still night. 

When Harden’s falseness was made manifest, and 
revealed, clear as broad day, by Dorothy, she was 
stunned and numbed by the blow, and had come 
back from Coombe Royal with her father as in a 
dream — a hideous dream in which everlasting night 
had fallen upon her soul. 

All through the moonlit walk on their return, 
some fiend seemed to drone Dorothy’s words into 
her ears, and it was with a maddened brain, and a 
bursting heart, that she reached their home. 

She longed to be alone, to fight this terror in the 
solitude of her own room; but there was an ordeal 
to be endured yet, and that was the nightly prayer 
which Burnside offered to the Most High. 

In the bitterness of her heart she could have 
laughed in open mockery at this, and all other 
prayers. 


162 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Of what avail was it? Had that Invisible and 
All-powerful Being, to whom they were about to 
kneel in abject submission, ever stretched forth a 
hand to save her? 

No ! He had let her drift, and had seen her swept 
away as flotsam on the tide ! And she had prayed 
too! Prayed for a light that never came, for 
strength that was not given. No! She could not 
pray to One who had turned a deaf ear to agonised 
entreaty; and whose pitiless cruelty, if He existed, 
had cast her a hopeless wreck upon the rocks. 

And so, she would have fled to her room, but 
for the thought of her father, and nerving herself, 
she prepared to endure what was to her but a pitiful 
sham; and through pale lips, she repeated words 
that had now no meaning for her. At last it was 
over! Her father kissed her, and bade her good 
night, and she was alone. 

As the door closed behind Burnside, she stood 
for a space, her hands to her temples, and a blind, 
unreasoning rage filled her heart against her own 
father. 

“ The dotard ! ” she exclaimed, “ to believe all 
this ! To make me go through all this ! There is 
no God ! There cannot be ! ” 

And then with a gasp she turned, and sought 
her own room. 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 163 

Once there, she loosed her hair from the prim 
bands in which it was held, and throwing on a 
loose robe, seated herself at the open window, 
her pale face resting between hands as cold as 
death. 

The moon shone kindly down upon those starry 
eyes. The night wind fanned her hot forehead, and 
played with the silken tresses of her hair; and from 
the hawthorn hedge that skirted the road below 
her window, a nightingale burst into full-throated, 
glorious melody. But not for her was the beauty 
of the night, the glory of the song. The fires of 
hell were in her heart; and her burning eyes ran 
their hot glance through the shivering moonlight, 
to where, a huge phantom castle, the vast shadowy 
mass of Coombe Royal loomed — there were her 
thoughts, and there lay the traitor. 

Indeed, Harden had done his work thoroughly. 
He had set about the moral ruin of this beautiful 
creature with the skill of a master-devil, and he 
had achieved complete success. He had begun by 
pitilessly weakening her belief in religion. He had 
placed her in a mist of uncertainty and doubt. He 
did this with caution and care. He never argued 
with her; but a chance remark here and there, a 
sneer dropped now and again, at failings which were 
only too apparent, had sapped that clinging faith 


1 64 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

in religion without which no woman can be a good 
woman. 

When this outwork was passed, the way was 
easier, and at last he gained his desire — and, well, 
the amusement was over, and he rode away; but 
he had left behind him a noble nature utterly blasted 
and ruined. It was not the first time he had pur- 
sued this course; but never had his success been so 
complete, never had the ruin that followed been so 
complete and hopeless. Ay, it would be a heavy 
count against him on the Day of Days, when the 
souls of mankind trooped to the trumpet that 
sounded the Last Roll Call. 

There, sitting at the window, Patience saw it all 
now, and knew Harden to be what he was. 

“ The traitor ! ” she gasped, and shuddered as the 
words formed themselves on her lips, and then de- 
spair, deep and hopeless, fell upon her. Her proud, 
imperious spirit writhed under the blow. And then 
came the thought, which comes ever to those who 
are weary and heavy laden, whose sorrows are 
greater than they can bear: Better death than this ! 
Death would end it all, and the step into the un- 
known would bring peace. It needed but a firm 
heart for a second — there would be pain for a mo- 
ment, and after that rest. 

Slowly she arose, and walked to her dressing 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 165 

table. Two candles burned there by a mirror, and 
as her eyes caught the reflection of her own features, 
she smiled bitterly. 

“ Ay ! white as death ! White as death ! The 
death that will soon come,” she muttered, and then 
with hasty hands she opened an inlaid casket lying 
on the table before her, and took therefrom a small 
stiletto. It had been Harden’s own gift to her, 
and as she held the jewelled haft in her fingers, and 
glanced at the shining, deadly blade, she almost 
sobbed out, “ He has killed my soul. What mat- 
ters the rest? ” 

For a space, a little space that seemed ages, she 
hesitated. The room darkened and reeled around 
her; the lights of the candles sank before her dim 
eyes to two small stars of fire; there was a drumming 
in her ears, and she tottered, and would have fallen 
but for the support of the table. 

“ What matters the rest? ” It was as if some 
invisible presence had spoken the words. It mat- 
tered nothing. All that was life to her was gone. 
There remained nothing. And yet, on the brink 
of the unknown, she shuddered and shrank back. 
It was no spiritual fear; she had lost that. It was 
a bodily fear — poor, wounded thing! 

At last her senses came back to her, and she 
partly recovered herself. Once more her courage 


1 66 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


arose full-hearted, and with a rapid movement of 
her hand she tore at her dress, and bared her white 
bosom. The next moment the dagger flashed high. 
All fear was gone. That lithe, strong arm could 
have driven the keen blade to the hilt in her heart 
without a tremor now. For one brief moment the 
glittering blade was held on high, in shivering, 
deadly menace, and then as swiftly as it was raised 
her arm dropped again. And once more it seemed 
as if that invisible being, who was ever with her 
now, was whispering urgent and insistent at her 
ear, pouring in new thoughts of evil more deep 
and hideous than before. 

“ No,” she said aloud, “ not yet. He must come, 
too. He is mine; I have paid for him with my 
soul.” 

And now, with a wicked, cruel laugh, she flung 
the dagger on the table. “Rest there,” she said; 
“ my hour has not yet come.” 

And turning, she went back to her window and 
her thoughts. Hour after hour passed. The moon 
sank, a wan shield of silver, into a grey sea of cloud, 
and for a space all was opal gloom and darkness, 
save where the beacon of the morning star shone 
on the death of night. 

But still she sat, brooding, scheming — her elbows 
resting on the window, her head clasped in her 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 


167 


hands, and her fierce eyes never moving from the 
dark shadow of Coombe Royal. It seemed as if 
they penetrated the distance, passed through those 
massive walls, and saw, as clear as day, all that was 
behind them. 

The tempest in her soul had died away, and she 
was calm now, and cold as ice. As the hours went 
by she reasoned the whole thing out. Her death 
would only free Harden — and Harden was hers. 
She meant to die, to end her life with her own 
hands, if need be — but it would not be to leave 
Harden for another. She had bought him, and 
paid for him, and when her soul crossed the Nar- 
row Straits, the soul of Harden would be by her 
side, her very own — lost like her own. 

Disordered, maddened as the poor brain was, it 
was possessed by a strange intelligence. She 
pieced together the incidents of the past day; one 
by one she gathered clue after clue, with a memory 
that never failed, with a judgment that never fal- 
tered, until at last she could read all as though it 
were written on a scroll before her. 

And so she sat until a red flush came into the 
east, and then, and then only did she rise from her 
vigil. The white night was past, but there yet re- 
mained life — and vengeance. 

Some little time after, staid and composed as 


i68 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


though the horrors of the night had been but a 
dream, Patience knelt with her father at the morn- 
ing prayer. There was no struggle now; all that 
was over, and she went through the ordeal as a 
mere matter of routine, with perhaps only a little 
weariness that it should be so long. When at last 
it was ended, and their simple meal done, Burn- 
side said with something of hesitation in his man- 
ner: 

“ I go to seek audience of the Lord Protector 
to-day.” 

Patience looked up at him, inquiry in her glance. 

“ Ay ! ” said Burnside. “ I go to kneel before 
him, and to ask forgiveness for our benefactor, and 
the Lord will soften the Protector’s heart, and let 
the good deeds of Harden weigh against that which 
is held against him.” 

Patience bowed her head as she answered: 

“ It is well, and like thee. But if thy prayer be 
not heard, and Sir Christopher hath not escaped, 
wouldst aid him further? ” 

She asked the question with a sudden, fierce 
earnestness, but kept her glance from him, for she 
feared to let her father see the light that burned in 
her eyes. 

“Yea!” he answered, “with all my power, but 
what more can I do? ” 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 169 

“We can leave this place,” she said, “ and jour- 
ney to London. Sir Christopher could go with us. 
None would suspect to find him in our company, 
and once in London we have friends, and he has 
friends, and there is safety across the sea. Wilt do 
this?” 

Once more there was the same quick inflection 
of the voice, and it was with almost a gasp of relief 
she heard her father’s answer. 

“ Yea, and more beside if need be.” 

“ Come then,” she said. “ The Lord Protector 
stirreth early. I will come, too, and seek Lady 
Capel, and offer our aid.” 

“ God grant us success.” 

“Ay! if there be one,” murmured Patience, but 
so low that her father heard not the bitter words. 

And an hour later these two, with hearts in which 
thoughts as wide asunder as the poles were work- 
ing, walked through the woodland towards Coombe 
Royal. 

Once arrived there was some little delay, for, 
unlike his usual custom, Cromwell was not visible, 
but at last they heard that he took the air in the 
shrubbery, and then father and daughter separated, 
the one to seek Cromwell, and the other to play the 
first card in her deadly game of vengeance. 

On a narrow pathway, between two high hedges 


1 7 o THE LORD PROTECTOR 

of holly, Cromwell was pacing slowly, lost in 
thought, his hands clasped behind his back, his head 
bent forwards. Something of that night of mental 
struggle still showed in him in the pallor of his 
features, and it seemed, too, that a new dread had 
come upon him, for he wore a steel corselet, and 
was fully armed, and at each end of the pathway 
stood a sentry, his carbine loaded, ready for any 
emergency. This new terror, the dread of assassina- 
tion, was growing on Cromwell daily. At present 
it came and went, but soon there was to be with 
him, as with other tyrants, the ever-haunting phan- 
tom of murder, and each wavering shadow, each 
nook and cranny he passed would hold, to his dis- 
ordered and feverish mind, a murderer with death 
in his hand. Close to one end of the road was a 
rustic bench, and on this Ireton was seated, poring 
over some papers, whilst now and again his quick 
eye glanced at the solitary figure of his chief pacing 
monotonously up and down. It was here that Burn- 
side found Cromwell, and it was here that at first 
he cogkl find no entrance; but finally Ireton caught 
sight of him, and, folding up his papers leisurely, 
arose and approached. Burnside explained his de- 
sire for an immediate interview with Cromwell, and 
Ireton, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if to 
say it was useless, bade Burnside follow him, and 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 


171 

on reaching the bench they stood awaiting Crom- 
well’s approach. 

The Protector came up slowly, his eyes still fixed 
upon the ground, seeming neither to hear nor see 
anything. The scabbard of the long sword he wore 
clicked and rasped on the gravel, and Burnside saw 
the steel butt of a pistol glint in his belt as he came 
nigh. Then Ireton stepped up and explained that 
the pastor wished to see the Lord Protector on an 
important subject. 

In his heart of hearts Cromwell loved not this 
zealous priesthood, whose aid he was, however, 
often compelled to seek, and at the moment the 
presence of one of their cloth was distasteful to 
him in the extreme. He looked up at Burnside, 
saying sharply: 

“ How now? What want you here, Master Burn- 
side? I would be alone.” 

“ And I, Elihu Burnside, preacher of the Word, 
say thou canst not be alone — thou whom the Lord 
hath set as a flaming sword over this land.” 

Ireton had stepped a little out of earshot, and 
was watching the two, his scroll of papers in his 
hand. At Burnside’s speech he saw Cromwell smile 
grimly as he made answer, trying to avoid the 
homily he feared was coming. “ Tush ! we are 
alone, Master Burnside. A truce to thy vain 


172 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


imaginings. I have things to think of — go in 
peace! ” 

But Burnside would not take his dismissal. With 
an earnest entreaty in his voice he continued: 

“ I have a prayer to make thee — deny me not ! 
I am old, and my footsteps totter towards the 
grave.” 

The simple earnestness of his voice carried weight 
with it, and after a brief second of hesitation, Crom- 
well said resignedly : 

“ Speak, then.” 

“ Your Highness ! I have come to ask for a life. 
Sir Christopher Harden, malignant and rebel as he 
is, saved me and mine from Rupert’s troopers. 
I — God knows! my life is of little value, but he 
saved my daughter’s honour; and thou hast daugh- 
ters of thine own.” 

Ireton had approached at the speech, and stood 
close to Cromwell, as the latter replied to Burn- 
side: 

“ Yes, it is true I have daughters of mine own, 
but I have yet another child, dearer to me than life, 
than honour, than aught thou canst promise, 
preacher — ’tis England.” 

“ Ay! and thou hast been a father to her, but ’tis 
only a life I ask for — one life in requital for what 
he hath done; and I, too, have served the State.” 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 


173 


Their eyes met as the pastor spoke, deep and 
earnest entreaty in his glance, but Cromwell's 
face was expressionless, and he said slowly and 
coldly: 

“ He is an open rebel; his life is forfeit to the 
law. He must die.” 

Burnside’s pale cheek flushed with anger at the 
refusal, and the callous, icy manner in which it was 
given. 

“ Wouldst entirely cut off Benjamin? ” he ex- 
claimed. “ Art thou drunken with blood? ” 

For a moment the Lord Protector stared at him 
in angry astonishment, but, calming himself with an 
effort, “ Preacher ! you ask for the life of a man 
who is yet free. The bird is not yet caged”; 
and then, with a sudden inquiry in his glance, 
he asked, “ Knowest thou where Harden lies con- 
cealed? ” 

He paused and waited for an answer, and then 
his dark, suspicious mind saw guilt in the silence 
that followed. 

“ Art thou, too, a traitor? ” he went on, and 
turning to Ireton, who had stepped up to him, he 
burst out : “ By the Lord, Ireton ! they compass 
us like bees; but I will pluck their stings from them. 
Speak man ! ” he continued, his sombre glance once 
more on Burnside, “ Hast lost thy tongue? or shall 


174 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


I number thee amongst the priests of Baal — meet 
for death? ” 

But now Ireton played the peacemaker. 

“ Be still ! ” he said to Burnside, who would have 
spoken, and then to Cromwell : “ Hear me, your 
Highness! There is some truth in Master Burn- 
side’s speech. Cut not Benjamin off entirely. We 
want the nobles of the land. We want their help 
and aid. How can they give it, when each one has 
lost, or fears to lose, a kinsman or a friend? Be 
merciful in this, my Lord ! This blood-letting hath 
bred many traitors.” 

Burnside looked his thanks at Ireton, as he en- 
treated once more: 

“ Your Highness, thine own and chosen pleads 
with me — be merciful.” 

For some little time Cromwell said nothing, but 
stood glowering at the ground at his feet, the sun- 
light glittering on his corselet, and flashing in jew- 
elled rays from the bright hilt of his sword. At 
last he spoke, and voice and face were stern and 
cold as ice : 

“ Yes; I have heard thee both, and thou Master 
Burnside hast had thine answer. Meddle no more 
with this. Well for thee is it that thou art old and 
stricken in years, and has laboured with zeal in the 
vineyards of the Lord — else out of thine own mouth 


THE WATERS OF BITTERNESS 


175 

would I have condemned thee ” Burnside 

made an effort to speak here, but Cromwell stayed 
him with a sharp command. 

“ No more ! Hence ! I will not hear thee more 
— thou are in danger of the law thyself ! ” 

With this he turned his back upon the twain, and 
resumed his walk between the holly hedges. 


CHAPTER XIII 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 

In the early dawn Colonel Pride, accompanied 
by the Cornet and a small party of men, amongst 
whom was Peter Mauley, sought the spot where 
the body of Tutbury had been found. The traces 
of the deadly struggle were still fresh upon the 
sward; but on that soft, springy turf, wet with dew, 
there was no sign to show which way the victor 
had gone. A dull, red splash at his feet, caught 
Mauley’s eye. He stooped, and after a glance 
picked it up. It was a feather from the plume in 
Harden’s hat, all damp and dew-bedraggled, and, 
as they crowded round it, Mauley said : 

“ ’Twas Harden’s hand that slew my comrade — 
this makes it certain.” 

Rock smiled grimly, and Mauley, putting the 
feather carefully away, continued: 

“ The night and the dew have dulled its colour; 
but I will dye it bright once more in his heart’s 
blood; and by my hand shall he fall — he who has 
slain my friend! 


176 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 


177 


But a crisp order from Pride stopped further talk, 
and they fell to searching again, until at last Rock, 
who had gone up the narrow pathway, uttered a 
loud exclamation. He had found a track, and fol- 
lowing on it, they found another, and yet another. 

They pressed forward like bloodhounds, Rock 
with secret exultation in his heart, for he saw that 
the footsteps led in the direction of Coombe Royal; 
but now came a check, for on turning the elbow of 
the forest, they found the ground hard and stony, 
and all traces were lost. 

They groped together, and one said: “ He hath 
turned aside here for sure, and escaped after all.” 

“ Nay! ” said Rock, “ he hath no means of es- 
cape. The coney hath run to his burrow; he lieth 
there — there, Colonel! Under our hands.” 

And turning to Pride, he pointed a lean hand, to 
where, but a quarter-mile away, the walls of 
Coombe Royal rose. 

“ Yes! ” gibed Pride, “ and taken a knotted hal- 
ter with him. Wouldst like to bear this news to the 
Lord Protector? ” and he laughed. 

The Cornet grew red under his sunburn. “ Chat- 
tering fool,” he called me, he burst out, “ I, who 
have seen blood run like water for thirty years. I, 
who when young rode with Bernard of Weimar 
through the duchies, and who, old and grey as I 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


178 

am, have carried a red sword from Chalgrove Field 
to Worcester — chattering fool! ” 

“ Peace, old ban-dog!” And Pride placed his 
hand on the Corners arm, “ Peace! thou mayest 
be right after all. I shall make my report to the 
Lord Protector at once. In the meantime, how go 
thy guards? ” But the Cornet’s heart was still sore 
within him, and he dared not trust himself to speak. 
All that he did was to point to Coombe Royal ; and 
Pride, looking, saw the wet light of the morning 
flame on the cuirass of a sentry, and as he followed 
the sweep of Rock’s arm, he saw another, and yet 
another. 

“ Locks that are hard to pick, Cornet — safer than 
bolts and bars,” he said, and then, dismissing the 
men, Pride took himself off; but Rock and Mauley 
remained behind. They harked back to the spot 
where Tutbury had fallen. There was a great brown 
blot on the sward, and beside it the turf had been 
torn up by strong hands, that clutched and dug into 
it in their death agony. 

For a little space they stood in silence, and then 
Rock said: “He was thy sworn comrade, Mauley, 
where wilt thou bestow him? ” 

“ He shall sleep here,” was the sombre answer; 
“ here, to-day, will he lie in a soldier’s grave; and 
his spirit will walk the spot, and make it accursed, 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 


179 


for he was done to death foully! Nay, Cornet! I 
know it ! For it is given to me to see, and the scales 
that are on other men’s eyes have fallen from mine. 
’Twas a felon blow that slew Thomas Tutbury — I 
know it! ” 

And the grim fanatic shook his clenched fist be- 
fore him, and there was vengeance and death in his 
eyes. 

Rock pulled at his long moustache. That such 
things were true he knew. Did not the dying Pap- 
penheim see the dead king at Lutzen? Had he not 
been forewarned himself once — nay, twice? 

“ It may be,” he said, and then, “ See that all is 
arranged. I will myself attend with the Colonel.” 

So saying he left Mauley, and took his way tow- 
ards Coombe Royal. One by one he examined the 
sentries at their posts, and at last found himself on 
the east side, near a high ivy-grown wall, a wall so 
high that a man could not reach its top with the 
point of a lance. It ran almost in the form of a 
square, enclosing a wing of the house, from one 
end of which Kenelm’s Tower, which lay within the 
enclosure, rose high into the morning, the sunlight 
shining clear upon its scarred and mottled surface. 

Rock let his eye rest upon the tower. His keen 
glance examined each crack and fissure in the wall, 
and strove to penetrate the inky deeps behind the 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


180 

dark loopholes. But he saw nothing except the 
green moss that covered the stones, the tufted 
grass that sprang from the crevices, and the slow- 
waving arms of the pink valerian, which, now in full 
bloom, sprouted from the crannies around the loop- 
holes, and fringed the base of the battlements. 

Rock’s glance travelled to the crenellated defence 
that surmounted the tower, and he watched a flight 
of pigeons as they circled around it twice, and then 
settled on the edge of the parapet, with a fluttering 
of soft wings and melodious cooings. 

“ They say that from the battlements five coun- 
ties may be seen,” said Rock to himself, “ and that 
beneath it lie secret prisons, known to none.” 

And then his one eye seemed to grow smaller as 
he muttered: “ If he is anywhere he is there. I shall 
double the guards around this wall.” 

With this he went forward, and, on turning the 
angle of the wall, found himself near an arched 
gateway, flanked on either side by a small tower, all 
ivy-grown, as was the rest of the wall. 

The massive, iron-studded and spiked doors of 
the gate were closed, and a quick challenge, and a 
flash of light and colour in the shadow of the ivy, 
showed where the sentry stood. Rock, who had 
given the countersign, marched up to. him: 

“ Hast aught to report? ” 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 


181 

“ Nothing, Cornet, save that in the small hours 
of the morning someone paced the garden behind 
the wall for an hour or more.” 

“ Ilm ! Didst see who it was? ” 

“ I looked through the Judas hole, but could see 
nothing.” 

“ Hm! Let me see!” 

The sentry slid back the cover of the peep-hole, 
and Rock peered through. What he saw was an 
old rose-garden, in glorious bloom. A little to the 
left was a summer-house, all white with the blos- 
soms of a climbing rose, that covered it like a snow- 
drift, and behind this ran a high rose-hedge, cut and 
trimmed in the form of a wall with battlements, and 
higher than a tall man, so that beyond this Rock 
could see nothing. 

Between the summer-house and the gravelled 
path, which led from the gate straight to the tower, 
from which access was gained by a low, lancet- 
shaped doorway, there was a square of soft turf, 
green as emerald. The morning sun shone warmly 
on this, and here a peacock lay, lazily basking, his 
jewelled plumage outspread in a maze of green and 
gold and lustrous blues. 

Rock took in the beauty of the scene, and let his 
eye rest upon it for a moment. Then he drew in a 
long breath, inhaling the fragrance of the roses, and 


182 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


finally closed the shutter of the Judas hole with a 
snap. 

“ Hast been within? ” he asked. 

“ I have no means to open the gate/' replied the 
sentry, and tapping the rusty studs: “ ’Twould take 
a demi-culverin to blow this in, Cornet.” 

The Cornet grinned. He had seen stouter gates 
than that before him yield like a paper door to 
other means, but all he said was: “ Keep careful 
watch. The worst time for a surprise is when all 
seems secure.” 

With this he left the sentry and continued his 
round. 

By the time he had completed his work, doubling 
his guards, as he said he would, and making his re- 
ports, the sun was high up, and it approached the 
dinner hour. 

It was Rock’s habit to dine alone in his room, 
and he repaired thither a hungry man, with pleas- 
ant visions before him. 

Like many a lean man the Cornet was gifted 
with a most healthy appetite. To a certain extent 
it was a flaw in his armour, and in his earlier and 
less cautious days, his lawless foraging had once or 
twice brought him perilously near making the ac- 
quaintance of the provost-marshal. 

But now there was good reason in excuse for 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 


183 

him. He had toiled since dawn without bite or sup, 
and he was justifiably hungry; in short, he was 
famished, as he put it to himself. 

On coming to his room he found, indeed, that his 
table was laid, but beyond this there was no sign of 
his meal. He paced the room for a little time impa- 
tiently, and then called for his orderly; but his or- 
derly, who was in truth no other than our friend 
Job Hopkins, was not to be seen. 

For a half-hour Rock waited, fuming with impa- 
tience, and then, boiling with wrath, he sought the 
men’s quarters, and found them dining; but Hop- 
kins was not there, nor had he been heard of. 

For a moment his anger against the orderly al- 
most made Rock forget his hunger. “ ’Tis the 
strapado for this, and double duty and double 
guards for a year — a whole year! ” the Cornet mut- 
tered between his teeth, as he came back raging, de- 
termined now to forage for himself. 

On his way back he passed the windows of the 
servants’ dining-room, and a grateful odour of roast- 
beef saluted him. He could not see within. Had 
he been able to do so he would have seen that which 
would have more than justified his anger against his 
truant orderly, for Job was there, finishing his din- 
ner, and, oblivious of his duty, was deep in a tank- 
ard, his eyes fixed upon Polly. 


1 84 THE LORD PROTECTOR 

As it was, the Cornet could only sniff the odour 
of the feast, which he did with gusto; and then he 
suddenly made up his mind, and, entering the house, 
boldly sought the servants' hall. As he approached, 
however, there came to him the memory of Mis- 
tress Battersby. “ She will be there," he muttered, 
and then, like a lean and hungry cat, fearing to 
advance, and yet not inclined to retreat, he paced 
up and down, pulling at his long moustaches, 
and inhaling the fragrant odour of the feast, 
which was so near and yet so unattainable, and 
of which there were signs that it would soon be 
ended. 

A sudden bustle, a burst of laughter, and the 
sound of hurrying feet, brought this home to Rock. 
Anxious only to secure a retreat, and careless in 
what way this was effected, he pushed at the door 
nearest to him; and as it swung back he saw a nar- 
row passage, at the end of which a flight of stairs 
ran downwards. Along the passage and down the 
stairway he fled with swift, silent footsteps, and on 
reaching the head of the stairway he found himself 
before another door. He placed his hand on this, 
and as it swung back, and he passed through, the 
Cornet found himself on a secluded terrace, over- 
looking a portion of the garden. At the extreme 
end there was a seat; but, except by the door 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 185 

through which he had entered, there was no further 
entrance or egress. 

The Cornet walked straight up to the seat, and 
standing near it looked over the parapet. Beneath 
him he saw the tops of a row of copper-beech trees, 
whilst beyond extended the maze of the shrubberies, 
and on the right and left of him the ivy-clad walls 
of the great house arose. 

“ I will tarry here till they have gone,” he mut- 
tered, “ the sunlight is warm on this seat.” He 
turned round as the thought struck him, and then 
stood as if petrified, for at the other end of the ter- 
race was Mistress Battersby herself, and she was 
coming straight towards him, a demure twinkle in 
her eyes, and with, perhaps, something of a height- 
ened colour on her rosy cheeks. 

The Cornet glanced to the right and left of him 
like a trapped rat; but no escape lay there, unless 
he had wings to fly; and then, as Mistress Battersby 
approached with a civil greeting, he drew himself 
up as close to the wall as possible, and with a “ by 
your leave, madam,” attempted to slide past, and 
make his escape. But the lady had made up her 
mind, and was not to be denied. “ ’Tis a warm and 
sunny spot this, sir,” she said. “ I sit here daily 
after dinner, and I trust, Cornet,” she continued, 
“ that thy dinner was to thy liking to-day? ” 


i86 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


The Cornet shuffled. “ By your leave, madam, I 
have my duties.” 

“ But not so soon after thy dinner — come, sit 
down on that seat, and sun thyself.” 

“ Madam, I pray you excuse me. I go now to 
dine.” 

“What! Hast not dined yet? And thou hast 
not had bite nor sup since yester eve! That I know. 
Thou must be famishing.” 

The Cornet assented ruefully, and made another 
effort to escape, but Mistress Battersby put in: 

“ Nay, sir! This is too bad, and is but ill-credit to 
me. See! I will give thee thy dinner myself. Come! 
Nay, sir, I will take no denial! Come! ” And the 
Cornet followed her like a lamb. 

Mistress Battersby placed before him of her very 
best, and it was very good. In that cosy parlour, 
with the warm sunlight shining through the win- 
dows, and those deft white hands serving him so 
noiselessly, Rock forgot his fears, and at last, as he 
gently sipped at his wine, and listened to the hum- 
ming of the bees outside, a great peace seemed to 
fall upon him. 

Quiet and unobtrusive, his hostess sat a little 
apart from him, ready to attend to his slightest 
want. She spoke little; but somehow the Cornet 
began to talk of himself and the Thirty Years’ War; 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 


187 


and then Mistress Battersby listened with wrapt at- 
tention to tales of siege and battle, and marched 
with Duke Bernard through the duchies. 

“ Ay, sir! she said, when he had finished the 
taking of Lauenberg, “ but thou hast seen and done 
wonderful things. How many years hast thou 
served, didst say? ” 

“ Thirty-four years and two months, madam,” re- 
plied the Cornet. 

“ And hast never wearied of it? Never thought 
that the time hath come for rest? ” 

Her voice was soft and purring. The old wine 
was good and chased warmly through his veins. 
With the scent of the roses outside, the sleepy 
humming of the bees came in through the 
window, soothing him into a dreamy, languorous 
calm. 

“ Nay! ” he said, and sipped at his wine, “ but I 
could fancy it.” 

There was a slight tap at the door; and this 
sound, which at another time would have made 
Rock start in guilty apprehension, had no effect 
upon him now. He merely stretched his long legs, 
and leaned back in his chair, as Mistress Battersby, 
with a brief “ Excuse me for a moment, Cornet,” 
arose, and went to the door. As it opened Roclc 
fancied he heard a slight exclamation; but even that 


i88 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


did not affect him. He was, indeed, in the toils of 
Circe. 

Mistress Battersby was away for a minute or so, 
and in that time Rock was in a dreamland. After 
all, why should he not take his ease? He had seen 
his day, and had been a careful man. “ She is a 
most sensible woman/’ his thoughts ran on, “ sen- 
sible and shrewd, her pasty is of the lightest. Eh! 
Why not, Rock? ” And he slapped his thigh, and 
chuckled to himself; and then became cold all over 
at his own daring thoughts, and strove to set them 
aside; but they crowded in upon him, insistent as 
the buzzing of the bees. 

And then Mistress Battersby returned: “ I crave 
thy pardon for leaving thee, Cornet; but my lady 
had some orders for me.” 

“ Ay, madam! it must be a huge labour the con- 
trol of this vast household? ” 

“ Dost think so, Cornet?” and she laughed: 
“ Tis nothing to a good housewife: and when thy 
fancy taketh root, and thou seekest rest, Cornet, 
seek thou a good housewife, for single living is ill- 
living.” 

She had moved to a seat close to him as she 
spoke, and her eyes were full upon his face. The 
humming of the bees seemed to be loud as the mur- 
muring of a sea now. The blood surged wildly 


TAKEN BY ESCALADE 


189 


through his veins. He felt the pulses in his temples 
throb. Hardly conscious of what he was doing, he 
bent slightly forward towards her, and then — he 
never knew how it happened; but his hand was 
clasped in Marjorie Battersby’s warm palm, her 
head was on his shoulder, and, wonder of wonders, 
he had kissed her! 

When, a half-hour later, Cornet Rock was walk- 
ing down the corridor that led to the great hall, he 
came face to face with Polly. Almost to his own 
surprise he made no effort to shrink into the wall; 
but pressed forward with a brazen confidence that 
was wonderful to see. 

She made him a demure curtsey; and there was 
an odd twinkle in her eyes, as she asked: 

“ Dost know the saw about faint heart, Cornet? ” 
and then before he could answer: “ Faint Heart 
ne'er won — nor freed itself of Fair Lady! ” 

And she whisked round and was gone. 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 

“ The safe-conduct gone! ” 

And as Dorothy spoke she looked into Maun- 
sell’s sombre eyes as if she did not understand, did 
not realise, but looked only to read in them the con- 
firmation of what he had just told her. The twain 
stood together in the embrasure of a window, the 
man sullen and short of speech, and the girl in be- 
wilderment, almost in despair. She had put her 
faith in this; it was the only way, and now it was 
gone. 

He had sought to tell her of the loss, to break 
the matter to her as gently as possible, and at the 
same time to tell her that there was yet a chance of 
Harden’s escape, but he did not understand women, 
and it had come about that he had blurted out the 
thing in clumsy fashion. He had told her bluntly 
that the passport was gone, and then stood silent. 

For a little she waited for some further word of 
explanation or hope, but Maunsell stood pulling at 

190 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 191 

his beard. He could not or would not enter into 
further detail. 

“ But,” she continued, “ you said you had it in 
your keeping. How has it gone? Who has it? ” 

“ Cromwell.” 

u Cromwell!” she gasped; “ but how did this 
happen? You promised to give it to me. I had 
your word for it. You should have given it to me 
last night. Oh, why did you not do so? ” 

“ Because I could not. He claimed it from me 
last night and destroyed it; and, Lady Dorothy, I 
must warn you. He more than suspects — he 
knows that Harden is here.” 

He made no mention of the part that he had 
played, or the position he stood in now, but as he 
spoke her eyes sought his with a quick, questioning 
look — a look of suspicion and mistrust. What if he 
had done this on purpose? What if he had himself 
warned Cromwell, and thus freed himself from the 
promise of aid he had so strangely given? She had 
until but a few hours ago known him only as the 
enemy of her house — as the man who was hunting 
his own kinsman and her lover to his death. ’Twas 
true he had held back when Harden was under his 
hand, and given a momentary respite, and raised 
false hopes. But this was his cruelty — she had 
heard stories of that. 


192 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ And you think I am capable of this? ” He had 
read her unspoken question — read it in her eyes, 
her air, her manner, and she shrank back a little 
from him as she said slowly: 

“ What else can I think? It was known but to 
you, myself, and my foster-sister.” 

“ A secret shared between three is hard keeping,” 
he said bitterly, “ but how can you think this? Had 
I done so do you imagine for a moment that I would 
have stayed my hand further, and that Harden 
would not now be before his judges? You wrong 
me, as you wronged me once before, and you will 
regret this as you regretted before; and more, it is 
useless for me to offer further help when I have not 
your trust.” 

With this he turned from her and walked down 
the gallery, hurt and indignant. She saw his tall 
figure, taller than ever, beneath the low-groined 
roofing, move from her slow and stately, and, as 
each step took him further away, she felt that she 
was losing strength and support that she fain would 
have. His words had convinced her; she knew she 
was wrong, and this man was no traitor. Yet for 
a moment she struggled with herself. Two steps 
more and he had reached the door, when, as once 
before, she called him back. 

“ Colonel Maunsell! ” 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 193 

He wheeled round at her voice, and stood for a 
second irresolute, and then he was once more by her 
side. 

“ I was wrong,” she said; “ I am sorry, and I was 
wrong. Can you forgive me and help me yet? ” 

“ There is nothing to forgive,” he said gently, 
“ and I am freer now to help than ever I was be- 
fore, for Cromwell and I have parted, and I am here 
a prisoner on parole. Not one of the men who yes- 
terday would have carried out my slightest nod 
would lift a finger for me to-day, and yet I am more 
free to aid you than yesterday.” 

She did and she did not understand. In a way 
she realised that a sacrifice had been made for her, 
but how or in what manner she knew not. 

“ I — I ” she began, but he restrained her 

with a slight gesture as he continued: 

“ I think there is a chance yet. For some pur- 
pose of his own, for some reason that I cannot 
fathom, Cromwell has not yet acted on his knowl- 
edge. Perhaps he thinks Harden securely caged, 
and bides his time; I know not. But the delay has 
given us a chance, and it would seem that in some 
strange manner aid is coming. Nay, listen ! It ap- 
pears that Harden once rendered signal service to 
the minister Burnside and his daughter, and they 
are grateful. Burnside came here to-day to plead 


194 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


for Harden’s life with Cromwell. His daughter met 
me, explained the object of his mission, and sought 
to know if there was hope. I could give her none. 
We had some little talk. I let her know that my 
hand was friendly, and the short of it is that both 
father and daughter are prepared to help, and they 
have a plan, which I think will work as well as the 
lost safe-conduct. So there is hope yet.” 

“ And for this, too, I have to thank you! ” 

“No! But to thank hearts that can remember 
to be grateful. Such things are rare in these days — 
but Burnside has failed in his mission, and the two 
have gone off to arrange. What has to be done will 
have to be done to-night.” 

“ But their plan? ” 

“ She will tell you herself. She will be here at 
dusk this evening, and all will be ready — and warn 
Harden. He is safely bestowed, I trust? ” 

“ Yes, in the secret chamber in Kenelm’s 
Tower! ” 

“ And they searched the tower twice — I once,” 
and he laughed. 

“ There is a double wall and stairway in one por- 
tion.” 

She smiled again. “ Well! I shall bring Mistress 
Burnside to you this evening. Where shall it 
be?” 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 195 

“ In the walled garden — we are safest there. 
You know the entrance? ” 

“ Yes, from the chapel into the base of Kenelm’s 
Tower, and thence into the garden.” 

A half-hour before the moon rose and whilst 
light and shadow were merged in a dim twilight, 
the gothic doorway of Kenelm’s Tower opened 
softly, and a figure stole forth into the garden, 
keeping close to the base of the tower, where the 
shadows lay black and deep. It was Dorothy, and 
for a little she stood still, listening intently; but 
there was no sound except the plashing of a foun- 
tain, that lay concealed amidst a bower of red roses; 
though its jet, cast high into the air, caught what 
light there was, and fell a murmuring silver spray 
into the lily-shaped basin below. Straight before 
her was the path that led to the outer gate, and she 
could see the summer house, snow white and glis- 
tening with its cover of roses. On her left, where 
the chapel walls met the old tower, was a maze of 
glorious bloom, and between this and the high en- 
circling wall lay a retreat secure from all prying 
eyes. For here a pathway, arched over with climb- 
ing roses, led to the heart of the maze. At the head 
of this Dorothy stood and waited. The minutes 
seemed hours. Now and again the ivy stirred, and 
she started at the sound, though it was only some 


196 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


small bird that moved uneasily in his shelter 
amongst the leaves. Her nerves were at highest 
tension, and every sound, the fluttering of a bat’s 
wing sweeping overhead, the swift, droning buzz 
of a beetle as it spun through the gloom, came to 
her with a sense of terror and evil that she could not 
overcome. 

Would they never come? Had anything hap- 
pened, and was it to be disaster after all? 

She cast her eyes upwards, where black and tall 
the tower rose into the night. 

“ Oh, Kit!” she murmured, “to-night, to- 
night! ” 

And now a sound, harsh and loud, broke in upon 
her with a startling suddenness. It was the great 
gong in the courtyard, upon which the half-hour 
had been struck, and it pealed out loudly into the 
night, dying away at last in a shuddering, long- 
drawn note. 

She shrank back far into the shadow at the 
sound; but when at last it was gone, and all was 
still again, she came forth, and then she became 
aware of two dark shadows at the doorway of the 
tower. They were not ten paces from her, and 
there was no mistaking Maunsell. And that other 
figure, slim and tall ! The figure, cloaked in a grey 
mantle and hood covering the features, that stood 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 197 

beside him! It was the friend whom God had sent 
to aid her in her straits, and she stepped forward 
eagerly. 

“ Thank God, you have come,” she said; “ I was 
afraid the worst had happened.” 

With a quick movement of her hand Patience re- 
moved her hood, and as it fell back, Dorothy saw 
through the gloom a beautiful face, as pale as mar- 
ble, the large eyes shining with a strange light 
in them; and then a voice, low and sweet, but 
which seemed to vibrate with emotion, answered 
her: 

“ Nay, lady! there is no fear! All goes well, and 
all is arranged! ” 

Neither Maunsell nor Dorothy noticed the 
strange inflection in Patience’s voice at the last 
words. Neither of them noticed the swift gleam of 
triumph in her eyes; and Dorothy stretched forth 
her hands. 

“ You are Patience Burnside, I know. How can 
I thank you? How make return for this? ” 

With an effort, which the darkness alone con- 
cealed, Patience took the outstretched hands, re- 
turned their warm pressure, and then, as she freed 
herself gently: 

“Yes, I am Patience Burnside! But speak not 
to me of thanks! I and mine seek but to repay a 


i 9 8 the lord protector 

debt. And, lady, there is but little time for aught 
now but action. With the dawn my father and I 
leave for London — and — and — Sir Christopher can 
travel safely with us. By midnight my father and I 
will be in the woods yonder with two horses. The 
spot cannot be mistaken. It is near the grove of 
great yews,” and she pointed with her finger to the 
right of the gateway, “ Sir Christopher must join 
us there, and once there he is safe. I will be wait- 
ing outside the walls, and guide him to the spot. 
Once he is free of Coombe Royal ” 

“ And herein lies the difficulty.” 

It was Maunsell who spoke, and as the two 
turned towards him he continued: “There will be 
a bright moon, and strict watch is kept. There is 
no means of Harden's passing out without being 
seen, and once seen there will be pursuit.” 

But Dorothy cut in: “ There is a way that no one 
knows of. See here — follow me.” And she turned 
swiftly and went down the arched pathway. Again 
she turned to the right, and in and out they went 
through the maze, Maunsell ever and again stoop- 
ing his tall figure to avoid the rose-thorn twining 
overhead. At times they seemed to cross the same 
spot again and again, but at last they reached a 
trim archway, cut in the fantastic hedge already de- 
scribed, and through this they passed. A few steps 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 


199 


further on and they were behind the summer-house, 
and here Dorothy stopped. 

“ Here,” she said in a low whisper, “ screened by 
the ivy, is a postern. So thick is the ivy on either 
side of the wall that it is totally invisible, and up to 
now no one has noticed it. See? It is open!” She 
lifted the ivy as she spoke, and there before them 
was an arched opening in the wall, as high as a man 
may stand. 

“ Through this,” she said, “ and ’tis scarce a hun- 
dred paces to the yews.” 

“One moment!” It was Maunsell who spoke, 
and slowly and cautiously he passed into the arch- 
way. The leaves fell over him softly. There was a 
moment’s stillness, then another gentle rustling of 
the leaves, and all was quiet. 

" He hath gone to see,” whispered Patience, and 
then the two women listened intently, but there 
came no sound. Dorothy moved close up to her 
companion, the eyes of the two met, and Patience 
murmured: “ He can escape this way, have no fear.” 

“ And all this we owe to you ! Oh, what angel 
sent you to us? ” and Dorothy put her hand on her 
companion’s shoulder. “ What angel? ” A wave 
of memory swept over the guilty woman’s heart. 
She tried to meet Dorothy’s glance, but could not, 
and then she moved herself. “ Lady, I seek but to 


200 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


pay a debt; no — thank me not! ” And she made a 
movement as though to step back, but Dorothy’s 
hand still kept its clinging pressure, and she drew 
Patience towards her. 

“ Oh! ” she said, “ but for you what would have 
happened? You have saved him for me and then, 
with a sudden, childlike gesture, she put up her face, 
saying, “ Kiss me, Patience.” 

They were close to each other. Innocent eyes 
were looking into guilty eyes — eyes in which welled 
forth love and tenderness were looking into the 
hard, cold eyes of hate, bitter and inextinguishable. 
Her very words, “ You have saved him for me,” 
seared Patience like a red-hot brand. There as she 
stood in the girl’s embrace her hand clasped the hilt 
of the dagger she carried now beneath her cloak; 
but no! It would spoil all. There was sweeter ven- 
geance in store. 

And then, ere she knew it, Dorothy’s soft lips 
were on her cheek, and she felt their warm caress. 

For one brief moment Patience Burnside thought 
that her strength would fail her, thought that the 
bands of her self-restraint would burst asunder, and 
show her to be what she was; but with an immense 
effort she controlled herself, and, clasping Dorothy 
in her arms, she kissed her fiercely and hotly. 
“Yea!” she said, “see! I have kissed thee, and 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 


201 


let this be a seal and a covenant between us twain.” 
And then, as suddenly as she had done this, she put 
Dorothy from her, and, stepping back, laid her 
finger to her lips: “ Hark! ” she said; “ he returns.” 

And as she spoke there was a rustling of the 
leaves; once more the ivy parted, and Maunsell 
stood before them. 

“The way is clear,” he said; “the guards are 
doubled on the right and left of us, but the ground 
here is commanded by but one sentry, and he stands 
posted at the gate. As he turned I passed the nar- 
row open space between me and the forest, and 
made my way to the yew trees. They are, as you 
said, scarce a hundred paces from the wall. I came 
back as I went, only the road was easier, for the 
knave of a sentry keeps lax watch. Tis that addle- 
headed fool Hopkins, and I fear me he weaves a 
halter for himself.” 

“Job Hopkins!” exclaimed Dorothy. “The 
very stars are fighting for us. He is on our side. 
He is with us.” 

“ And our side is partly with him now,” said 
Maunsell a little grimly, “ for if I mistake not your 
maid is relieving the tedium of his duty.” 

“ Then we are safe,” said Dorothy with a smile. 

“ Quite safe.” It was Patience’s low voice that 
broke in upon them, and then, as she pointed over- 


202 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


head, “ But see! the moon hath risen, and I have far 
to go.” 

It was as she had said, and the grey gloom of the 
twilight had given place to the soft radiance of the 
moon. Soon that would be almost as bright and 
clear as day, and even now, from where they stood 
within the shadow of the wall, they saw the wan 
outlines of the trees in the rose pleasaunce take to 
themselves form and substance, and the hazy 
shadow of Coombe Royal slowly resolve itself, until 
the great pile stood forth clear and distinct, whilst 
from the battlements of Kenelm’s Tower there came 
to them the hooting of the great owl, as he wel- 
comed the queen of the night. 

“ Come,” said Maunsell, “ it is time to be doing. 
We have scarce four hours now.” 

Back they went, all three together, still keeping 
to the shadow of the wall, and moving softly and 
cautiously. When they reached Kenelm’s Tower, 
Patience, who was a little in advance, turned and 
stayed them. 

“ I must go first and alone,” she said. “ Nay! 
no soul will hinder me; and now, till midnight, 
good-bye.” 

She had slipped her hood over her head, and 
stood with one hand clasping the folds at her throat 
as she spoke. With her last words she stepped 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 203 

quickly through the door, taking no heed of Dor- 
othy’s outstretched hand, and the next moment she 
was gone. 

“ She is a strange girl,” said Dorothy; “ at times 
I almost fear her, but ” 

“ It is she, and she alone, who can save Harden 
now,” said Maunsell gravely. He, too, had, earlier 
in the day, noticed the peculiar nervous excitement 
under which Patience Burnside laboured, and he 
had drawn his own conclusions. Based upon truth 
though they were, they were wrong, and he thought 
that Patience Burnside was in the agony of a great 
Sacrifice, whilst her heart was thirsting for the re- 
venge that was coming so near, and would soon be 
her own. 

And now that they were alone together Maunsell 
returned to his stiff and formal manner. 

“Madam!” he said, “I pray you now to warn 
Harden.” He checked himself for a moment, and 
then continued: “ It would be well if we could meet, 
if only for a few moments. I think it is safe here, 
and I will await him near the fountain.” 

“ I will tell him,” she said, and then, with a quick 
and sudden earnestness, “ Colonel Maunsell, do you 
think all will go well? Tell me. I want to know 
what is in your heart of hearts.” 

She looked up at him with shining, eager eyes, 


204 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


but the question, the hope, the love in them that he 
saw in the moonlight — not one of these was for him. 
What would he not give if that were his? It were 
worth the price of a man’s life twice over. All this 
was in his heart, but other words came from his lips. 

“ All will go well. There may, however, be a 
man’s work to do, and I will be here to help. I will 
not stir from here till all is over; and now go and 
send him to me.” 

He watched her as she passed through the arch, 
and then, slowly turning, walked towards the foun- 
tain, and sat down on the edge of the basin. 

He began to cast up the account of the past few 
days with himself. He had thrown away his career, 
and perhaps his fortune and his life for what was 
after all but a dream. He would never win the 
prize. He knew this now, and yet he was here, 
ready to die if need be, to save that other, un- 
worthy though he knew him — to save him for her. 
It was a sacrifice far greater to him than fortune or 
life. After all, why should he? He had but to let 

events take their course, and then ! He arose 

and stood to the full of his great height, his harsh 
face almost livid with the mental conflict within. 
Twice he made a step forwards to the door of the 
tower, and twice he stepped back, and then his bet- 
ter nature, his strong good heart came to his aid. 


COVENANT OF PATIENCE BURNSIDE 205 

“ I will save him,” he muttered thickly to himself, 
“ save him if man can do so.” 

And then he stood, dreaming over the fountain, 
watching the spray falling on the surface of the 
water in the basin, beating it into tiny wavelets of 
silver and gold. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE BETRAYAL 

And as Black Tony sat there, staring into the 
trembling waters of the fountain, a man came up 
with stealthy, noiseless footsteps, and stood behind 
him, a man with a drawn rapier in his right hand, 
a short cloak thrown back over his shouders, and 
his long, fair, Cavalier locks covered by a hat with 
drooping plumes. For an instant he watched the 
brooding figure before him, a strange, half-mock- 
ing smile upon his lips, and then: 

“ Well, Tony, I have come! ” 

Maunsell sprang to his feet, and wheeling round 
faced the speaker; and the two kinsmen, once 
friends as well as kinsmen, had met again after long 
years. 

There was no pretence of hand-shaking, or other 
friendly greeting between them. Things had hap- 
pened in the past that made this utterly impossible. 
For one brief second Maunsell stood grimly silent, 
towering a head above the other, his dark face stern 
and set. 


206 


THE BETRAYAL 


207 


He was going to save this man. If necessary he 
would sacrifice his life for him; but between the two 
was a gulf that could never be bridged; and so his 
voice was icy in its coldness as he spoke. 

“ I am glad you have come, I have something of 
import for you.” 

“Ah! Quite the old manner! Time makes no 
change in you, dear coz — but say what you have to 
say quickly, and leave out the homily if there be one, 
for there is danger in the air here for me.” 

Soft and even was Harden’s voice; indeed, it was 
scarce raised above a whisper; but Maunsell caught 
the mocking glitter in his kinsman’s eyes, the veiled 
hatred in his tone; but all this was nothing to him 
now. 

“ I have no homily to read,” he said slowly. “ To- 
night, with God’s help, you will be free; but it is far 
from here to your French refuge, and you will need 
money.” 

“ Exactly! You have uncommon perception. I 
need money, need it badly. I always need it, and 
will be glad to borrow from you — some of my own 
rents of Hardenholt.” 

Still Maunsell took no notice of the insult in his 
tone and manner; but handed him a purse. 

“ Here then is that which will meet your present 
wants. There are a hundred guineas there.” 


208 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Harden took the purse, and poised it in his hand. 

“ Faith! ” he said, " ’tis a comfortable weight, and 
’tis long since I have felt a burden so pleasant,” and 
then slipping it away into his doublet, he drawled 
out, “ verily, thou art a St. Martin in thy charity, 
dear coz ! I had truly expected the cold comfort of 
thy good advice, but, beshrew me! ” and he tapped 
his breast, “ this is, indeed, a surprise! ” 

And then, as if some devil moved him, he began 
to speak as it were to himself, his voice low and 
level, with scarce an inflection, but each word 
barbed with insult. 

“ Peste! Whence comes this milk of kindness in 
Tony's heart? Ah, I see! He has discovered the 
power of a pair of blue eyes — but they shine not 
for Tony, but for me — I, the outcast, the rebel, the 
doomed. But it was ever so, was it not, Tony? 
Mind you the little affair that parted us — we were 
as Damon and Pythias then. Dost know what be- 
came of her? ” 

“ Silence! ” said Maunsell, in low, growling tones, 
“ and go! You have your chance now." 

Harden stepped back a pace, and slightly raised 
the point of his sword. He was in his most reckless 
and dangerous mood, and nothing could stay him. 

“ Come! ” he said, “ there is yet time for a word 
between us, and ’tis years since we have met. Lis- 


THE BETRAYAL 


209 


ten, my son of Anak! The prize you hope to win 
will never be yours, she and her lands are mine. I 
have taken care of that,” he said with a devilish 
meaning in his voice, as he went on, “ You grasp it? 
She must either be Lady Harden or ” 

But he never finished his speech. With a smoth- 
ered cry Maunsell sprang forward, and seized him in 
a grasp of iron. So swiftly and suddenly was this 
done that the other had not time even to raise his 
sword, and in a moment it was twisted out of his 
hand and flung on the pathway. He, Harden, put 
forth all his lissom strength, but he was a child in 
those giant arms that gripped him like a vice, and 
shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. 

“ Dog! ” said Maunsell, “ but for my promise to 
her I would slay you here — not with a sword. Nay, 
I would give you no such chance. Now mark me! ” 
he continued, as the other writhed beneath the pain 
of his hold, “ one word more like this and I will kill 
you — kill you out of hand. One other whisper of 
this, and the seas will not be wide enough to save 
you. Coward and liar! Mark this and go — go — 
lest my anger be too much for me.” 

With this he flung him from him, and Harden 
staggered across the pathway, white to the lips. As 
he passed the spot where his rapier lay, however, he 
pulled himself together with an immense effort. 


210 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


Quick as thought he bent down and seized the 
blade; but he was reckoning with one as quick as 
himself, and ere he could make another movement, 
his wrist was held once more in Maunsell’s grip. 

“ You would strike a felon blow, would you? ” 
he growled into Harden’s ear. “ Have you thought 
of the consequences? You will hang like a dog, as 
you deserve to hang, by the morning.” 

“ My God!” hissed the other; * 4 draw then — 
draw! Let me free! ” 

“ Not now or here; but I give you my word that 
I will cross over to France and meet you when and 
where you like.” 

“ You will — you promise that! ” And Harden’s 
eyes flashed fire. 

“ I promise on my honour.” And Maunsell 
loosed his hold from Harden’s wrist. 

“ Very well ! I will wait thee then ; and 
then ” 

“ ’Twill be either you or I, Christopher Harden.” 

Kit Harden would perhaps have made some an- 
swer, but at the moment the sharp challenge of a 
sentry rang out, and then another, and another. 

“ Back! ” said Maunsell, “ back to your refuge! ” 

And without a word the Cavalier turned, and slid 
into the darkness. 

Antony Maunsell listened to the tramp of feet 


THE BETRAYAL 


21 I 


outside the walls. Now and again a hoarse voice 
reached his ears, and then all was still. 

“ The rounds,” he muttered, “ and now all is well 
till the small hours/’ Saying this he moved gently 
to the tower, and passing through the door found 
himself in a small vaulted room. Beyond this again 
was a low Norman arch that led into the chapel, and 
through this Maunsell passed. As he entered the 
chapel something seemed to move, and he fancied 
he heard a light footstep. He glanced quickly 
around, but could see nothing, for all was darkness, 
save where through a wheel-window a broad band 
of moonlight fell across the chapel, showing indis- 
tinctly the dim, groined roofing, and tattered and 
faded banners that hung on the walls. 

With something like a sigh, he sat himself down 
on the altar steps, facing the dim aisle, and waited 
for midnight ; and here we will leave him, victor over 
himself, and follow Patience Burnside on her road 
of vengeance. She had left Dorothy and Maunsell 
in the pleasaunce, with a lie on her lips and fury in 
her heart. With rapid footsteps, and light, she 
crossed the chapel, and entered the long gallery be- 
yond. All had gone as she had hoped and planned, 
and now a word in Cromwell’s ear and it was done. 

She had made her arrangements well, and as she 
reached the end of the passage, a man stepped 


212 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


through the doorway, and met her almost face to 
face. It was Ireton, and it was not chance that 
brought him there. 

“ We are both punctual,” he said; but she broke 
in upon his speech: 

“ Take me to him,” she said; “ I must see him at 
once. There must be no delay.” Ireton heard the 
words as they hissed through her clenched, white 
teeth, and from beneath the shadow of her hood he 
saw, uncertain though the light was, the unutterable 
hate in her eyes. Even he, hard and cold as steel, 
almost shuddered as he caught that glance. 

“ Come! ” he said, “ follow me.” 

And he led the way past the great hall, through 
the octagon chamber, and up the spiral stairway, 
until at last they stood before a closed door. 

“Wait here!” said Ireton briefly, and softly 
opening the door passed in. Cromwell was at his 
work table, but the pen he held in his hand was idle, 
and he seemed lost in thought. As Ireton entered 
he looked up at him with inquiry in his glance. 

“ She has come, your Highness. Shall I admit 
her? ” 

“ Art sure this is no trick, Ireton? Art sure she 
comes not to repeat her father’s pleading? ” 

“ My lord, I am sure of it. There is no mercy in 
her eyes.” 


THE BETRAYAL 


213 


For a moment the two looked at each other, and 
Cromwell laughed shortly, a harsh, unmusical 
laugh. 

“ Send her to me/’ he said, “ and go for Pride. I 
must see you both as soon as she has gone.” 

Ireton bowed, and passed out of the room, and 
as he did so, Cromwell crushed the quill he held in 
his fingers, as he muttered to himself: 

“ What new tangle is this? ” 

And as the words fell from his lips the door 
opened and Patience entered — a tall, slight figure. 
She had thrown back her hood, and Cromwell saw 
before him the beautiful features, pale as death, with 
those strange, luminous eyes that met his look as if 
they would read into his very soul. 

“ Maid ! ” he said, “ what brings you here? ” 

A shiver ran through Patience as he spoke, and 
Cromwell had to repeat his question before she an- 
swered. 

“ I come with news of the Malignant Harden's 
hiding-place." 

“ You? ” 

There was that in the Lord Protector's tone that 
made the blood rush like flame to Patience’s face. 
She half raised her hand as if to ward a blow. For 
a moment she seemed to cower and shrink back; 
but with an effort she gathered herself together, 


214 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


and pale once more, except for two bright spots that 
burned now on her cheeks, she gasped out: 

“ Yes, I! ” 

Cromwell rose from his chair and approached 
her. A strange expression had come across his 
rugged features, the harsh lines seemed to disap- 
pear, and for once the grating voice was soft and 
deep. 

“You! And this man hath done great service 
to you. He hath saved your father's life and yours 
— and you would betray him? ” 

The wretched girl had not expected this — any- 
thing but this, and each word that Cromwell spoke 
cut her to the quick. She had expected some few 
cold, stern words of thanks, some icy mention of the 
blood-money — the very thought made her shudder 
— but this, but this! That deep voice that vibrated 
with kindliness awoke as with a magic touch the 
better nature within her, and she saw herself as she 
was. But it was for a moment only. She bad gone 
too far to step back now, and again the light of mad- 
ness gleamed in her eyes as she answered: 

“ He is accursed amongst the followers of 
Ahaz ! ” 

“ Have you no gratitude? ” 

It was almost too much, and a sob burst from Pa- 
tience; but again she steeled herself — she would not 


THE BETRAYAL 


215 

see him live for her, that other whose kiss still 
burned upon her lips. 

“ Cromwell! ” she said, her voice a-thrill, her 
frame shaking as if struck by an ague, “ ask me not 
why or wherefore I do this — perchance it is the 
blood-money, and we are poor. Let it be so! You 
want the traitor, and I give him to you. It is 
enough for you, is it not? ” 

The kindly light in Cromwell’s eyes went out as 
she spoke, and once more his voice was harsh and 
metallic. 

“ True! It is enough! Where is Harden? ” 

“ Here! ” she gasped; “ here in Coombe Royal! ” 

“ So much I guessed; nay, knew already. I must 
learn more.” 

“ Then listen. He lies hidden in the secret cham- 
ber in Kenelm’s Tower, and to-night will attempt 
escape.” 

“ Ah!” 

“ Yes, with the aid of Maunsell and Lady Capel. 
I wormed the secret from the traitor Maunsell by 
offering my aid. They trust me, and — and I hate 
them.” 

“ Come,” interrupted Cromwell, almost roughly, 
“ to the point, girl. I would know the plan of es- 
cape.” 

And in low, rapid tones Patience told him all, 


2l6 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


told him in the fullest detail, and when it was all 
over, Cromwell turned from her without a word, 
and walked to the window. For a moment or so he 
stood there, looking out into the night, and then 
facing round stepped up to Patience. 

“ Thou hast earned the reward, and it shall be 
paid thee. Go now and be silent. Thou art near 
thy desire.” And she, whom Harden had dragged 
so low, went forth with bowed head and tottering 
footsteps. It was all over now, and even if she gave 
her life for it, she could not recall what she had 
done. She had tasted of her vengeance; but the 
bitterness of it, which should have been so sweet! 
With a low, moaning cry, she fled down the dim 
gallery a ghostly figure — fled past two men who 
stood together in earnest converse, and who looked 
after her with curious eyes as she went by. 

She was not conscious as to where her footsteps 
led her; and, as if impelled by a strange and irre- 
sistible power, they took her back the way she had 
come. She was once again in the chapel. She 
passed down the dark aisle behind the shadow of 
the pillars, all unseeing, and unseen by that other 
who sat with bowed head on the altar steps. Light 
and noiseless, as a thing of air, she flitted through 
the vaulted chamber at the base of Kenelm’s Tower, 
and it was only when she felt the cool, scent-laden 


THE BETRAYAL 


217 


air of the rose garden that she began to realise 
where she was. She shrank out of the moonlight 
deep into the shadow, and cowered against the grey 
and moss-grown wall. Regrets, remorse, a hundred 
memories tore at her heart. Her burning eyes 
glanced pitifully around, as if seeking for help; and 
a sob burst from her. 

“ What have I done? What have I done? ” she 
moaned. “Oh! if I could undo it!” And she 
leaned her hot forehead against the cool stones, and 
stood there trembling. God pity and help her, poor 
wretch! For as she stood there the madness came 
over her again, and she tore at the wall beside her 
like a wild thing, tore at it until her fingers bled. 
“ Never! ” she gasped, “ never for her! My God! 
I know myself! I hate myself for the vile thing I 
am — but he — he made me this. O, Harden! Har- 
den!” 

And with a low moan she sank down shuddering 
into the black shadow. 

And he, the uncrowned king, the man before 
whom she had unveiled her heart, stood for a 
moment as she left him, a strange smile upon his 
face. 

“ Ay, jealousy,” he said, “ thou hast a she-wolf’s 
heart! ” With this he turned heavily and sank into 
a chair, the harsh features grim and set. “ I see it 


2l8 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


all now,” his thoughts ran on; “ that fury has given 
me the key — but I was right, I guessed it before. 
And Maunsell plays the traitor! Maunsell has cast 
aside his wealth, his honours, his old friendship with 
me — for what? For a love that is not his. And he 
and that girl think to play a rubber with me — with 
me! ” And he laughed grimly, and then on the in- 
stant his mood changed, and the stern brows were 
knit. “ No! ” he said, “ there can be no mercy in 
this — Harden must die! ” 

He rose once more, but stood in hesitation. This 
was not his way; but for once a hundred memories 
came crowding upon him; and with these Ireton’s 
own pleading. “Cut not Benjamin off entirely!” 

His hands were red with blood, and there was 
one stain that no time could efface. Once again he 
stood behind the barred window, watching the rest- 
less crowd before Whitehall, and watching, too, that 
other thing, that high, black scaffold where his 
King was to die — done to death by his hands. He 
seemed to hear the shuddering murmurs from be- 
low, and above them all rose one voice, a girl’s voice, 
clear and distinct: 

“Yes! your King, General Cromwell! Your 
King and mine! ” 

He passed his hand across his forehead with a 
quick and rapid movement. 


THE BETRAYAL 


219 


“ Death! ” he muttered, “ it is ever in my path. 

It is ever for me the only way — but this ! ” 

He checked himself, and with a sudden resolu- 
tion in his voice, called out: 

“ Ireton! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE NET CLOSES 

At the sound of his voice the door swung open 
noiselessly, and Ireton entered, his clear-cut face, 
calm and severe, in marked contrast to the rugged 
granite of Cromwell’s features. 

“ She hath told me all,” said Cromwell, “ and 
confessed all.” 

“ And broken her heart in the doing of it,” came 
the answer. “ Pride and I saw her go moaning 
down the gallery like a lost soul. She passed within 
a foot of us.” 

The shadow of his hat hid the expression that 
came over Cromwell’s face as Ireton spoke, and 
then he said slowly: 

“ Nay, Ireton! The heart-breaking was done be- 
fore, else she had never come to this. She is mad, 
mad with the sting of a great wrong, and mad with 
jealousy, and as merciless as a tigress. I saw it in 
her face when she came in, and my heart smote me; 
and I — I gave her her chance — but she wants blood, 
and will have it.” 


220 


THE NET CLOSES 


221 


“ It is then as we thought ” 

“ Yes; to the hilt and more! Listen! ” And in 
a few, brief words — dry, incisive words — that left 
no doubt as to their meaning, and made all as 
clear as day, Cromwell sketched the plan of the 
escape. When he ended, Ireton glanced at the 
horologe. 

“ There is more than an hour yet,” he said, “ and 
they suspect nothing. Shall I arrest Lady Capel 
and Maunsell, and force the tower? ” And even as 
he spoke, he made a half-movement to the door, in 
eager anticipation of Cromwell’s approval; but with 
a motion of his hand the latter stayed him. 

“ Nay! ” he said, “ this is a rubber which I shall 
play. Is Pride in waiting? ” 

“ Yes, your Plighness.” 

“ Then without noise or bustle let a dozen men, 
well armed, be assembled without the gate, and let 
it be done quickly and silently; we have but little 
time.” 

The shadow of a smile flitted across Ireton’s face 
as he answered: “We guessed there would be 
work, and all is ready even now.” 

A grim smile of approval unbent Cromwell’s lips, 
and he asked: 

“ Who is in command? ” 

“ The Cornet Rock, your Highness.” 


222 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ Ah! ” 

Ireton caught the doubt in the exclamation. 
“ Mistake him not, your Highness,” he said; “ ’tis 
an old and tried soldier, a veteran of many 
years ” 

But Cromwell broke in upon his words: “ Let 
be, let be, Ireton, and come!” And with this he 
moved to the door, followed by Ireton. Outside 
they found Pride, and, as once before, the three 
went down the gallery together, their long shadows, 
like huge phantoms, preceding them. 

At the entrance of the great hall stood a sentry, 
who presented arms, and gazed after the three 
with curious eyes as they passed out into the 
night, and then resumed his monotonous tramp 
up and down, his footfalls echoing sullenly to his 
tread. 

Near the gate of the courtyard, drawn up in the 
shadow, stood Rock and his men, and here the three 
stopped. Rock was called up, and there was a whis- 
pered talk for a few seconds, and then Pride, taking 
the Cornet a little aside, gave him some orders in a 
low tone. In as low a tone the command to march 
was given, and they moved off, Cromwell leading 
with Pride at his elbow. Ireton had dropped be- 
hind, and was engaged in whispered converse with 
Rock. 


THE NET CLOSES 


223 


Even through the uncertain moonlight Crom- 
well’s quick eye discovered the doubled guards, and 
he asked Pride: 

“ When was this done? ” 

“ This evening, your Highness. We have pre- 
pared for everything.” 

Cromwell made no answer, and the party took 
their way at a more rapid pace, keeping well in the 
shadow of the trees. 

A few steps brought them opposite to the east 
wing; and Pride gave an order to halt. 

Cromwell glanced at the house. “ Lady Capel’s 
apartments are there, are they not? ” 

And Ireton, who had joined him, replied: “ Yes! 
Where the lights burn at those windows.” 

“ Are all the approaches guarded? ” 

“ Naught, save a bat, could pass without being 
seen.” 

“ And these,” asked Cromwell, “ are the yews? ” 
And he pointed to his left front, where three dark 
shadows rose above a low belt of trees, and stood 
athwart the opal night. 

“ Yes, and Burnside should be there by now.” 

“ Then let the arrest be made at once. Cornet 
Rock, this is thy part. Remember that he is old, 
and should be easily taken. Remember, too, that 
I want him living. Bring him to the gateway in 


224 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


the walled garden yonder. We will await thee 
there — be swift and sure.” 

Rock saluted and stepped back. “ Mauley! ” he 
said, “ come thou with me! ” And the twain, de- 
taching themselves from the others, went forward 
with quick but cautious steps. 

In the meantime, all unconscious of the foe that 
was upon his footsteps, Burnside stood beneath the 
yews, deep in their shadow. Linked together, and 
by his side, were two stout horses, and he held the 
reins lightly but firmly, now and again caressing the 
fretting bay that bore a pillion on its saddle. 

In his younger days, far, far back, he had carried 
a sword and won a spur, and the excitement of the 
moment had, with the power of the fabled elixir of 
youth, given the old pastor a strange, nervous 
strength, and for the time he felt the blood run 
warmly through his veins, and felt, too, as if his 
hand possessed the strength of thirty years ago. 

He had been there for a half-hour — a half-hour 
that seemed ages, and as the minutes flew by, and 
there was no sign of his daughter, a nervous re- 
action set in, and the warm blood chilled once more, 
the flushed face grew pale and wan. 

Now and again he would crane forward from the 
darkness and peer into the shimmering haze in 
front of him, expecting each moment to see the 


THE NET CLOSES 


225 


figure of his daughter coming towards him; but 
there was no sign of her. He tried to strengthen 
himself with the hope that she would herself bring 
Harden; but fear and doubt followed upon this, and 
soon his mind was a prey to a hundred presenti- 
ments of ill and disaster. 

Once again he strove to pierce the night with his 
eyes, and as he looked he fancied he saw someone 
approaching. Yes; there were two figures mov- 
ing! They had come at last, and his heart began to 
beat once more, beat only to chill again; for as he 
looked he began to realise that in the ghostly light 
he had taken a stunted tree for a human figure, and 
he stepped back with a groan. 

But what was that which made the bay so res- 
tive? And that other, the quiet sorrel, was moving 
uneasily, and the pastor felt his hold on the reins 
weaken. 

He was reaching out his arm to caress the bay, 
when there came a sharp crack, as of a dry twig 
breaking behind him, and then the leaves rustled 
as if a heavy body had forced its way past them. He 
turned to look; but in that moment the horses 
plunged and reared. The reins slipped from his 
hand, and the bay with a snort turned and galloped 
away, blundering through the forest; but a figure 
had arisen from the earth as it were, and held the 


226 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


sorrel, whilst another, a drawn sword in its hand, 
was by his side, and a voice called out in low, grim 
tones: 

“ Master Burnside, thou art my prisoner! I ar- 
rest thee in the name of the Lord Protector.” 

He made no answer, but stood stunned and be- 
wildered. 

His hat had fallen off, and the moonlight fell on 
his silver hair and white, drawn features, so thin and 
pale that Rock’s heart smote him; but at that mo- 
ment Mauley’s harsh voice broke in upon them, as 
he thrust his face forward, scowling savagely at the 
captive. “ Priest of Baal! Betrayer of thy people! 
Behold, the fires have been kindled beneath thee, 
and thou wilt pass now into a land which thou 
knowest not.” But a strong hand thrust him back, 
and deep and stern was Rock’s voice. “ Back,” he 
said, “ back, and be still. Thou forgettest thy 
place. Loose the horse, it is not wanted, and not a 
word more.” 

Mauley fell back before the fierce glance and 
grim tones of the Cornet, who turned to Burnside. 

“ Master Burnside,” he said, and his voice was 
kind, “ this is no soldier’s task that hath been set 
me, and I would it had been another to whom it 
was given; but his Highness awaits us yonder, 
come! ” 


THE NET CLOSES 


227 


And placing his arm in Burnside’s, he led him for- 
ward, still silent and unresisting. Once only did 
he moan out : 

“ My daughter Patience! ” 

“ Fear not! ” said the Cornet, “ there is no harm 

for her, and ” But here he stammered and 

checked himself. He was going to say that Burn- 
side also was safe from harm; but who knew what 
lay within the Lord Protector’s heart? 

Slowly Rock led his prisoner across the narrow, 
open track until they reached the high, ivy-grown 
wall of the pleasaunce, and then a figure stepped 
out of the shadow, and approached them. It was 
Pride. 

“ Thou hast thy man, Rock? ” he said in a low 
tone; and the answer came: 

“ He is before thee, Colonel.” 

“Good! His Highness will see him hereafter. 
In the meantime keep him there in the shadow, with 
two men to watch him. Thou and Mauley are 
wanted elsewhere.” 

Rock did as he was bidden, and then joined the 
others. 

At the corner of the wall they halted, and Rock, 
who was leading, stepped out cautiously. In front 
of him lay the gateway with its two towers, and in 
the flood of the moonlight before the gate a sentry 


228 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


stood, his carbine at the support, and staring into 
the forest. It was Job Hopkins, and Rock’s eye 
twinkled with a malicious light, as he thought of 
certain things, and thought, too, how he would 
make the knave smart for his laxness. Here he was 
not thirty paces from him, in the full of the moon- 
light, and the oaf saw nothing; but stood there 
dreaming, for all the world like a wooden image! 

But if the truth was known there was excuse for 
Job. Apart from the fact that he had stood there 
for hours — part of Rock’s disciplinary measures — 
he was on the cross with anxiety of mind. For that 
very evening he and Polly Maple had parted for 
ever, as she said, and she had added thereto a threat, 
in respect to a certain Gideon, that made Hopkins’ 
blood hot with anger, and tore his heart with jeal- 
ousy. And there was a certain pathos in this all, 
too, for that evening Polly had set a price on her- 
self, and it was simply that Hopkins should see 
nothing of that which was to happen, and let Har- 
den pass. And to his honour be it said that Job 
Hopkins had refused. Polly cajoled and coaxed, 
but Job remained firm. At last she threatened, and 
the mention of Gideon had roused a flame of anger 
in his heart which gave him strength to hold out. 
He made his choice — made it like a man. 

“ Lass,” he said, “ I love thee well; but whilst I 


THE NET CLOSES 


229 


wear this at my side,” and he touched the steel hilt 
of the sword, “ I cannot — I cannot.” 

She looked at him through the white moonlight, 
and loved him for his sturdy honesty, loved him as 
she never loved before; and it was then that she 
played her last card, and threatened him. It was 
enough. He turned upon her white and stem: 
“ Thou wouldst tempt me to shame,” he said, “ and 
if so be that thou wouldst part, go in peace, and 
let there be naught between us henceforth, as thou 
sayest.” 

Had he only known it Job was victor, utter and 
glorious, and for one brief, trembling moment Polly 
was about to yield, and beg his forgiveness. As it 
was, however, she simply turned her head, and 
turning her back upon him, went away with never 
a word, humming a snatch in a quavering voice, but 
with her eyes full of tears. 

And Job! He cursed the wiles and duplicity of 
women in general, and Polly in particular, and 
thanked God he was rid of her, and then all the love 
that was deep in his honest heart welled up, and he 
might be forgiven the sob that shook his sturdy 
frame as he stood there at his post, most miserable 
of men, and utterly forlorn. Oaf and yokel though 
he was, he knew what it was to love, as truly as any 
fine gentlemen in lace ruffles, and so he stood there 


230 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


through the long hours with a breaking heart, care- 
less of all things, thinking only of this one thing that 
was to him more than life. 

It was at this moment that Rock had stepped out 
into the light. 

“ Hey! hey! ” he chuckled, “ 'twill be the dumb- 
horse and the cells for this, and may be a halter.” 

There was a crisp step by his side, and the sound 
reached the sentry. In a moment he had swung 
round and pointed his carbine. 

“ Halt!” he said, “ or I fire!” 

And they saw the red glow of the match glint on 
the barrel as he aimed at them. 

But a voice, harsh and stern, a voice that chilled 
Job to the marrow, broke in upon them: 

“ Hold, and to attention! 'Tis I! ” 

In the terror of the moment Job almost dropped 
his weapon; but he somehow managed to recover 
himself. By that time Cromwell was by his side. 

“ Cornet Rock! ” he said, pointing to Job, “ thou 
needest more discipline here.” 

Rock ground his teeth — another reproof, and all 
due to this hulking fool! 

“ He shall have it, General,” he said. “ Here, 
Truscott, Price, arrest this knave! He will be dealt 
with in the morning.” 

Job surrendered without a word. All things 


THE NET CLOSES 


231 


were even with him now, and as he was marched off 
between the two dragoons, Cromwell said: 

“ I want this gate opened.” 

Rock fumbled with a soft leather knapsack he 
wore, slung over his left shoulder, and produced 
therefrom a small phial and a monstrous key. The 
contents of the phial he poured into the lock, and 
smeared over the bolt. Then inserting the key, he 
turned it with an effort, and the lock opened noise- 
lessly. 

“ The gate will creak, General,” said Rock, as he 
thrust the oiled key and the phial in his sack. 

“ Push it back enough to admit one man — that 
will be sufficient.” 

Rock put his shoulder to the massive door and 
pushed — once, twice, and then with a harsh creak 
the gate swung back wide enough for two men to 
pass in abreast. 

“ Enough!” said Cromwell, and held up his 
hand as if to enjoin silence, but save for that dismal 
creak there was no sound. 

After a moment or so Cromwell put down his 
hand: “ ’Twas a false move,” he muttered, “ and 
might have lost all,” and then, turning to Rock: 

“ Place thou a sentry here — one who can be 
trusted. Let him conceal himself there,” and he 
pointed to the thick ivy, “and let him stop all 


232 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


egress. Shoot if there be any resistance — even the 
slightest.” 

“ Mauley! ” said Rock, “ take this post. You un- 
derstand the orders.” 

“ Yes, Cornet! ” and, glib as a parrot, Peter Mau- 
ley repeated Cromwell's injunctions. 

“And now, Ireton,” he said, “bring four men 
with you, and follow me. Pride! Fall back with 
the rest behind the wall there. If I whistle — to 
me!” 

Slowly and softly they crept in, keeping in the 
deep shadow of the wall; and as they went on Crom- 
well whispered to Ireton: 

“ This brings back old days. Faith! have known 
nothing like this since I stood sentry at the Blue 
Boar.” 

“ God grant this may end as well.” 

“Tush, Ireton; thou croakest like a raven. But 
here — post thy men here in the blackest shadow. 
Remember they are to make no movement, make 
no sign until I myself give the word. On their lives 
be it! Post them and join me. I am going there.” 
And he pointed to the summer-house. 

Ireton murmured something in a low tone, and 
fell back, and Cromwell, still keeping under cover 
of the rose hedge, reached the summer-house and 
entered softly. Through the struggling moonlight 


THE NET CLOSES 


2 33 


he saw a rustic table and a seat before him, and 
leaning one hand upon the table, he put aside the 
roses with the other, and glanced out. The glory 
of the garden was before him; and beyond, where 
tree and shrub faded away in the moonlight to soft, 
billowy shadows, was the Norman keep of Coombe 
Royal, with here and there a light burning like a 
glowworm from out of its sombre faqade. A little 
to the right, half in shadow and half in inky black- 
ness, Kenelm’s Tower stood squarely out, and as 
his eyes fell on this, there was a soft step at his side. 
It was Ireton. 

“ All is ready, your Highness,” he whispered. 

Cromwell put down his upraised arm, and the 
clustering roses fell softly together. 

“ Back then to thy post, Ireton. Remember, no 
movement till I call.” 

“ Would it not be well if I were to remain? ” 

“ Nay, Ireton! There is no fear!” And as he 
answered, his sword glittered in his hand. 

Ireton stepped back as softly as he had come, 
and Cromwell was once more alone. The night, 
the air, the time had a strange fascination for him. 
Once more he put aside the roses, and watched the 
dim lights. The minutes passed slowly. The si- 
lence was intense. Then a light went out, then an- 
other and another, and the huge keep was in dark- 


234 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


ness, except for one small glimmering ray that 
shone faintly through a dormer window. 

And then with the spell of the hour upon him 
Cromwell began to commune with himself. 

“ Ay! ” he murmured, “ one by one they go, and 
all in darkness save for that small beam,” and he 
pointed to the little light, “ that beam that shines 
there like a hope. And so I stand, as that grim 
tower, an equal gloom; but the Almighty Hand 
hath spared me not a ray.” He paused, and then 
continued: “What said I? I blaspheme. I have 
my hope, my guide.” He held the gleaming blade 
of his sword before him. “ O, God of Bat- 
tles! thou hast blessed this blade, and with its edge 
hath smitten to the death the Dragon that op- 
pressed my England. From now let, there be 
peace.” He slowly sheathed his sword, and turn- 
ing, stepped to the door of the summer-house. He 
was before the square of turf, and the glistening 
pathway was beyond. He let his eyes run through 
the opal light. 

“ This moon throws strange shadows,” he mur- 
mured, and then a hand gently touched his sleeve, 
and Ireton’s dark face was at his shoulder. 

“ What is it? ” whispered Cromwell. 

Without a word Ireton pointed in the direction 
of the Tower. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 

Of all nights this night in June was one that 
Dorothy Capel was never to forget. The heavy 
air was hot and oppressive, the silence death-like 
in its stillness. The flowers in the vases, scattered 
here and there about the room, drooped in a lan- 
guorous swoon, and, soft though it was, the light 
of the candles in their rare silver holders seemed to 
burn and pain her eyes. One by one she put them 
out, and then, seating herself at her bow-window, 
looked forth into the quiet night. For an hour or 
more she remained thus, her head resting in her 
hands, hoping, fearing, and waiting. 

Then a sound came to her — the muffled tread 
of tramping feet. She arose and, standing con- 
cealed from view behind the curtains, peered out 
with straining eyes and ears. There it was again! 
There could be no mistake — men were moving, and 
moving warily without the walls. Then something 
glittered in the shadow and was gone. It was a 
drawn sword that had caught the moonlight, and 
235 


236 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


flashed it back in a ray of fire. At last she saw 
them, a small, compact body that passed a little belt 
of light, and was lost in the darkness almost as soon 
as she marked them. 

The stillness that followed was now all but in- 
tolerable. She tried to hearten herself with the 
thought that, after all, these might be the guards 
that nightly patrolled the house. Night after night 
she heard them, the challenge of the sentries and 
the exchange of the password. 

But this night it was different. There was no 
challenge — nothing except that steady, muffled 
tramp, and then a strange and eerie silence. Could 
it be? She gasped and trembled at the thought. 
No, no! It was impossible! The plan was too well 
laid, and there were loving hearts with her, not 
traitors — and yet! She sank on her knees at the 
window. “ O God,” she prayed, “ aid and protect 
him now! Shield him with Thy strength.” And 
then there was a sudden plunging sound, a faint 
cry, and the beat of galloping hoofs, going ding- 
dong through the night. 

She sprang to her feet, her face all flushed, her 
bosom heaving. It could mean but one thing: her 
prayer was answered, and Harden was free! There 
was no sounds of pursuit, nor could she hear now 
the beat of those racing hoofs as they sped through 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


2 3 7 


the night. He was free! He was free! Thank 
God! Thank God! 

And then she remembered, and paled once more. 
Swift and light she turned and ran into the inner 
room. With trembling fingers she pressed the 
spring in the alcove. The door slid back, and she 
groped her way up the dark stairway to Harden’s 
refuge. As she approached she saw the door was 
open, and a straggling ray of moonlight showed 
the dim chamber beyond. 

“ Harden! ” she called out. “ Kit! ” 

There was no answer, and she passed in with 
timid steps. The room was empty, and he had 
gone. There could be no doubt of it now. He had 
escaped; and kneeling down once more, she thanked 
God for His mercy shown. Slowly she arose, and 
went back as she had come, her face alight, her eyes 
shining. 

But why was it that none came to tell her — to 
give the glad tidings? It was late. Something de- 
tained Maunsell. And then an irresistible impulse 
seized her. She would go down to the rose pleas- 
aunce and see with her own eyes. She snatched up 
the grey cloak — the same she had worn when she 
had slipped through the forest to meet her lover. 
She passed like a ghost through the Ladies’ Gal- 
lery, where all was in gloom. 


238 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


When she reached the passage beyond, however, 
she stopped and hesitated. The windows were 
thrown wide open, and it was in a flood of white 
moonlight, and there, not ten paces from her, stood 
a sentry, a tall, heavy-looking man, with the moon 
rays rippling on his polished corselet. For a mo- 
ment she stood in uncertainty; but there was no 
way but this, or back — and she could not go back. 
And then she boldly advanced into the light. 

The eyes of the sentry twinkled as he turned and 
faced her. He thought her to be one of the maids 
— Polly Maple, perhaps. There was some little 
relaxation here, a pleasant episode of his guard, and 
he laughed a hoarse, boorish laugh, as he called out: 

“ Halt, little maid, and give the password! ” 

“ I am late,” said Dorothy, hastily; “ let me pass, 
please.” 

“ For a kiss, I may, Sweetlips!” he answered 
coarsely. “ Come then — buss me, lass! ” 

And leaning his carbine against the wall, he 
stepped up to her chuckling and leering. 

Dorothy made no movement; but as he came up 
she threw back her hood, and faced him, her eyes 
aflame. 

“ Back, fool! ” she said. But he had already rec- 
ognised her, and stood staring in speechless amaze. 

“ Lady Capel! ” he gasped. 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


*39 


But she broke in upon him. “ Yes; Lady Capel! 
You know me now. Then let me pass at once — 
this instant, I say! ” 

The man began to mumble and stammer out 
some lame excuse, but Dorothy waited to hear no 
more, and left him where he was, staring after her 
as she went, and cursing himself in his heart for his 
folly. His boorish jest was like to cost him dear, 
and he knew this well. 

But Dorothy had gone, and now, without further 
hindrance, reached the chapel door. Through this 
she passed with quick, hasty steps, but as she 
reached the aisle, all alight with a strange radiance 
that poured in from the stained-glass windows of 
the clerestory, a tall, dark figure stepped from be- 
hind a pillar and faced her. 

“ Lady Capel! You here? ” 

She started back with a little cry, but the next 
moment she had recognised Maunsell. 

“ Oh! ” she said, “ I was coming to you. He has 
gone, has he not? He is safe? ” 

“ Not yet,” was the answer; “ it is just time, and 
I am going now, as I promised, in case my aid is 
needed. Stay here till I return.” 

She looked at him, for a moment speechless, and 
then, with a great dread in her heart, she burst 
forth: 


240 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ But it cannot be. You are wrong. You have 
missed the time. He is not in the tower, and I 
heard the horse galloping away. ,, 

But as the light fell on his features, and she saw 
the expression they bore, she stopped all trembling. 

“ Lady Capel,” he said, “ nothing has happened 
as yet. Come with me if you like and see.” 

“ Then what does it all mean? ” 

“ We shall know in five minutes — will you 
come? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered, as she stepped to his side, 
and the two passed together from the chapel. 

They found the door of the tower leading into 
the garden open, and Dorothy called attention to 
this in a whisper, and she added, “ You see, he has 
gone.” 

Maunsell made no answer save with a warning 
gesture to observe silence, as he stepped out softly, 
the girl following him; and then, keeping in the 
shadows, and skirting the edge of the wall, they 
went forward slowly and cautiously. 

Now and again Maunsell stayed his companion 
with a touch of his hand, and looked around him 
carefully; but except for themselves the place 
seemed still and deserted. 

In this manner they went onwards, until they 
were but a few yards away from the summer-house, 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


241 


and here Maunsell once more stopped, close to an 
arch cut in the high rose wall behind which they 
were. Before them the white night trembled over 
the summer-house, the green stretch of turf, and 
the wilderness of the rose-garden; but where they 
stood the shadows, black, brown and grey, stretched 
long and deep, else perhaps they would have seen 
they were not alone. For, scarce ten paces off, 
where the rose wall ended in a soft, sweeping curve, 
as unconscious of their presence as they were of her, 
was the figure of a woman — a woman whose ven- 
geance had come to her right hand at last, and who, 
crouching against the glistening leaves, stared out 
with a white face and hot, fierce eyes at something 
they did not see as yet. 

Thus they stood a little space, and then they 
heard a footstep on the path. 

Dorothy clutched Maunsell’s arm: “ Listen !” 
she whispered; “ someone is coming.” 

Once more they heard it; then there was a sway- 
ing of white-blossomed boughs, and the next mo- 
ment Kit Harden stepped out into the light, his 
drawn rapier in his hand. 

Dorothy made a half-movement forward, but 
Maunsell restrained her. 

“ One moment,” he whispered. “ He is coming 
this way.” 


242 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


She drew back with reluctance, and they watched 
him as he came forward, carrying himself as bravely 
as ever, with an unconscious grace that was all his 
own. 

He stopped at the edge of the turf and looked 
around him. 

“ So far so good,” he muttered. “ For once 
Noll's watch-dogs sleep. My friends are late. If 

the two women only knew ” And a heartless 

little laugh escaped him as he went on: “ Faith! if 
I only knew where the horse is I'd levant without 
good-bye. As it is ” He shrugged his shoul- 

ders, and then, with another reckless laugh : “Egad ! 
'twould be rare to meet my Lord Protector here! 
I'd show him Touchet’s new thrust in tierce,” and 
he made a pass with his rapier, straight where a 
man’s heart might be. 

Now, low as he spoke, the still night carried his 
voice to where the watchers stood, and the words, 
the tone, and the manner made Dorothy shrink 
back trembling. It was as if she had been struck 
across the face. She was stunned, bewildered, and 
hot with the shame of it. She glanced up at Maun- 
sell to see if he had heard — to see if he understood; 
but the shadow hid his features, and he stood still 
and motionless as a thing of stone. 

In that moment all the doubts that Harden had 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


243 


allayed but so short a time back rose up full-armed 
within her. She tried to put them aside bravely. 
It could not be. Her ears had deceived her. She 
had not heard these cruel words rightly; and then 
something happened. 

There was a low, half-suppressed cry close to 
them, and the next instant a grey-cloaked figure, 
tall and slight, stood before Harden. He looked at 
her with a smile on his lips, and, sheathing his 
sword, held out his hand. 

“ So, Patty, come at last! I almost thought I 
was betrayed.” 

She took no notice of his outstretched hand, and 
from the midnight of her dark eyes a look flashed at 
him that should have warned him had he not been 
lost in his reckless mood. 

“ Betrayed,” she said coldly, “ and by whom? ” 
And set as her voice was, her heart became like ice 
as she thought of the brink upon which she stood — 
this man whom she loved still, though she had lured 
him to his death. 

“ Yes, by my psalm-singing cousin. Faith! what 
a chance was his! A word to Noll, and poor Kit 
Harden But what ails thee, dear? ” 

For she had turned away from him as he spoke, 
and those who stood not two swords' length away 
saw her face as white as death. Harden stepped up 


244 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


to her and took her hand; but with a quick move- 
ment she wrenched herself from him, and, still turn- 
ing from him, her hands held to her forehead, she 
gasped: “ My God! My God!” 

But the fool in his reckless folly would not see. 
The moment, the chance, the opportunity of escape 
he thought so surely his were set aside with a sweep, 
and, putting his hand on her shoulder, he turned her 
to him. 

“ What ails thee, sweet? Come, let me see thy 
face. Why, ’twould become a ghost,” he laughed, 
as he gently put aside her hand, and, bending for- 
ward, kissed her. 

And those two who heard — those two who saw 
the veil being lifted from a man's life — what were 
their thoughts? Maunsell bent down. 

“ Will you go back? ” he asked. 

And the answer came in a whisper, fierce and low. 

“ No, stay. I must stay. This is the truth at 
last.” 

“ Come,” said Harden, “ there is no fear. Is it 
the night and the stillness? If so, remember they 
are all our own.” 

Once more Patience freed herself from him, and 
faced him with haggard eyes in which love and hate 
strove together. 

“ I — I am here to guide thee,” she gasped; “ the 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


245 


horse is there.” And she pointed before her, where 
the gate lay partly open. “ See, the gate is open. 
My father is without. Go; the road is free.” 

She had seen the open gate, and guessed that 
death lay there — the sooner the better, else her 
heart would fail. He followed her outstretched arm, 
not heeding the deadly look, and saw too. 

“ I go,” he said, “ but not alone. Come, Patty.” 

“Man!” she exclaimed, “torture me not — go! 
Each moment is precious — go! ” He looked at her 
as she stood before him, her hood thrown back, her 
pale face shining on him through the night. Once 
he had loved her. Even that evening in the forest 
when she had saved his life, the feeling had come 
on him again, and he had owned her to be a queen 
amongst women. She loved him still. He knew 
and felt that, and who knows? But perhaps his 
love came back to him as he stood there on the edge 
of the grave. He stepped up to her, his eyes alight, 
his voice low and passionate. “ I see it all,” he said, 
“ ’twas my own doing, sweet. I have sinned against 
you, but as God is my witness I have never ceased 
to love you,” and he took her hand. “ Listen! I 
was poor, hunted by debts, my lands gone, my steps 
dogged by misery. I was tempted, and I fell.” 

“ Oh! lie no more,” she gasped. “ I know all — 
all I say.” 


246 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ No,” he said, “ not all. But this is the only 
thing I want you to know and believe — I have 
never ceased loving you. I love you still. Come 
with me — my queen — my wife. Beyond the seas 
there is happiness for us — come ! ” 

“ I cannot,” she moaned, “ I cannot.” But even 
as she spoke she let him draw her towards him, and 
he kissed her — once — twice. 

And then the guilty woman’s heart broke, and 
the floodgates of her conscience opened. She tore 
herself from Harden with a quick and sudden effort, 
and stepped back — her voice shrill in its agony. 

“ No, no! I cannot come. Oh, you were right! 
You are betrayed! I did it! I! My God, what 
have I done? ” 

He did not realise at once, but as he saw the 
writhing figure before him, it came to him. 

“ What does this mean? ” 

“ All roads are watched,” she gasped; “ they but 
await the signal.” And then, in a transport of con- 
trition, she cast herself down at his feet, and moaned 
out: “ I did it! I! I could not bear to see you an- 
other’s. I was mad, and now — oh, Harden! Har- 
den! ” And her voice rose to a shriek as she clung 
to his knees, and grovelled before him. God pity 
her! 

He flung her from him with a bitter and cruel 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


247 


word — flung her aside with a curse, and she rose 
and tottered to her feet, her mad eyes blazing, her 
lips wet with blood. His hand was raised as if to 
strike, but at that moment an imperious voice called 
out, “ Hold! ” and Cromwell stepped from the sum- 
mer-house. 

Harden swung round at the word, and the two 
faced each other. 

“ Cromwell! ” he said through his clenched teeth. 
“ You! ” 

“ Yes, I! Nay! Never lay your hand upon your 
sword — a word and my guards are on you ! Come, 
surrender! ” 

Harden glanced quickly around him, as if seek- 
ing some means of escape. Then he shrugged his 
shoulders with a little laugh, and made a movement 
as if to unbuckle his sword — and hesitated. 

“ Will it be the scaffold? ” he asked. His tone 
was as cool and collected as if he were making a 
trivial inquiry. 

As he spoke a sob burst from Patience, and 
Cromwell’s eyes rested on her for a moment. 

“ That might have been spared you but for this.” 
And he made a slight movement of his hand towards 
the wretched woman, who stood there in her sor- 
row and her shame, as though rooted to the spot. 

“ Ah! Delilah weighs in the balance, does she? ” 


248 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


And then with the calmest assurance he turned on 
Cromwell, unbuckling his sword as he spoke, and 
holding it in his hand: 

“ Come, sir! I will buy my life ” 

“ The price? ” 

“ My life is forfeit. I am poor — I am needy; but 
I know the secrets of the Court — I’ll call it the 
Court, if you please. These secrets are worth some- 
thing to you; Willis is dead. I know that, and 
know that you have no friend there now, and the 
King trusts me utterly. Come, let it be a bargain! ” 
And with brazen effrontery he made a step for- 
ward towards Cromwell, who stood with folded 
arms, his sombre glance fixed upon the speaker, 
and even as he spoke the words of shame, Dorothy 
and Maunsell stepped out from their shelter, and 
stood in the open, close to them. 

Harden’s back was towards them. He did not 
see; but Cromwell saw, though he made no sign, 
but stood there in a grim silence. 

“ Come,” said Harden again, “ ’tis a fair offer. 
Dead, I am worth nothing — alive, I would be more 
precious than rubies to you,” he mocked. 

“ You would spy for me, then? ” 

The biting contempt of the tone was not lost; 
but the answer came cool and insolent: 

“ The Huntingdon grazier still! ” And then with 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


249 


a pause and a cynical indifference in his voice, 
“Yes! spy, if you call it so.” 

“ ’Twas for this I wanted you; but now I de- 
cline” 

Harsh and stern was Cromwell’s voice, and Har- 
den stepped back the pace he had taken forward, 
but not from fear. There was a steely glitter in his 
eyes and an ominous ring in his voice. 

“ Be careful! There is danger in the air.” 

“ But not for me,” thundered Cromwell, hot 
anger shaking his frame. “ You are too base even 
for a spy. You! Perjurer and liar! Dishonoured 
gentleman! See! There they stand. The wit- 
nesses of your shame.” 

He pointed to Dorothy and Maunsell as he 
spoke, and Harden turned and saw, and seeing, felt 
that they knew all. Ay, his shame was open to 
them as broad daylight, and he knew he was lost. 
The woman whose soul he had killed, the woman 
whose heart he had broken, and the man he had 
tried to slay with a felon blow were all there — all 
witnesses to the deeps of his ignominy. 

The past, black as it was, might have been for- 
given him, this he felt, but for that one last foul 
thing — when he stooped to buy his life at the price 
of his honour. He did not dare to meet their look, 
but shrank back snarling, his face distorted, his 


250 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


eyes blazing with quenchless hate and despair, his 
breath coming thick and fast. 

And now Cromwell’s voice, dry and imperious, 
cut in upon the intolerable silence. 

“ Come, sir, end this. Your sword! ” 

Quick as lightning it gleamed in Harden’s hand, 
and with an oath he thrust at Cromwell, and the 
fate of England had been changed but for another 
sword that flashed forth as swiftly as Harden’s, and 
struck his deadly thrust aside. It was Maunsell, 
and on the instant Harden had turned on him. 

“Dog!” he said, “take this!” And Maunsell 
reeled back, his sword arm hanging limply to his 
side. Swift as a panther Harden had sprung to re- 
peat his stroke, when Dorothy sprang forward and 
came between the two, and at that moment Crom- 
well’s whistle rang out sharp and shrill, and there 
was a rush of hurrying feet. 

Harden’s arm dropped at Dorothy’s look. “ You 
have robbed me!” he hissed, and leaped back, for 
Ireton was there with his guards, and they had all 
but ringed him in. His reckless courage never 
failed him for an instant. He was going to die, he 
knew; but he would die sword in hand. “ A Har- 
den! A Harden!” he called out, and flew at the 
nearest of the guards. 

Grim soldier that he was, the man gave way be- 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


251 


fore that deadly blade, and Harden, seeing the way 
open, dashed for the gate. 

But his hour had come. At the clash of the 
swords and the sound of the whistle Peter Mauley 
had stepped into the garden, and now stood, his 
carbine ready, waiting his chance. 

“By my hand shall he fall,” he muttered; “he 
who hath slain my comrade,” and he raised his 
weapon. Harden had not taken three steps forward 
when there was a flash, and a sharp report, and, 
tossing his arms in the air, he staggered backward 
and fell — a dead man. 

“ Lo, he hath fallen! He hath fallen! ” and Peter 
Mauley's harsh voice rang out, as he ran forwards, 
his smoking carbine in his hand. 

They crowded round the dead man, who lay face 
upwards. His hat had fallen aside, and the moon- 
light fell on his fair hair and haughty features, dis- 
torted and drawn in their death agony. So swift, 
so awful in its suddenness was the end that all were 
speechless and silent, and even the fierce Mauley, 
after one look at the still figure, stepped back 
amidst the crowd that came pouring in through the 
gate. 

Suddenly there was a cry, a shrill shriek of agony, 
that thrilled those who heard it to heart, and a 
woman ran forwards, and kneeling down, gently 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


252 

lifted the dead man’s head, and kissed the cold 
brow. 

Great sobs shook her frame, and then she lifted 
her dry, burning eyes, eyes that blazed with mad- 
ness, and looked around her. 

“ He was my lover — my husband — my all — and 
I gave him to the death; and who will give him 
back to me — ye who have slain him body and soul 
— body and soul?” she moaned, and went on: 
“ Dear eyes that will never look in mine again; dear 
hands that are so cold — so cold; dear heart that is 
still — it is I, Patience, who calls to thee!” And 
again and again she kissed those chill lips. 

“ He does not answer! He cannot hear! ” she 
went on wildly, and then she laughed — and such a 
laugh — the agony of it wrung her hearers’ hearts; 
but ere its terrible, mirthless echoes ceased, her 
mood had changed, and she ran her fingers through 
his long fair locks. 

“ Gold! ” she said, “ fine gold, and no silk as soft 
as this. Ah, Kit! The old days will come back for 
you and for me, dear— for you and for me! ” And, 
sitting on the turf, she placed the head in her lap 
and began to croon over it, rocking herself to and 
fro the while. 

In the awful horror of the scene, no one ventured 
to speak, no one stirred. 


THE ROSE PLEASAUNCE 


253 


Suddenly her face flashed scarlet, and, putting 
the head from her, she rose to her knees. 

“ I did it,” she shrieked, “ I slew him — my love — 

my dear! O, God! forgive ” She tried to 

totter to her feet, but her strength failed her, and 
with a sharp, half-strangled cry, she fell forward 
with her face on Harden's breast, and lay there still 
and motionless, a thin stream of blood issuing from 
her lips. Death had claimed her in mercy, and she 
was gone. 

Then, as they lay together, Cromwell stepped 
up, and, hat in hand, stood for a space over them in 
silence — his head bowed; and when he raised it 
there were tears, incredible tears, on his iron cheeks, 
and then the stillness was broken by the sobs of a 
woman weeping. Dorothy had given way, and, 
clinging to Maunsell, who despite his wound still 
held his place, burst into a storm of weeping. It 
was well that it had happened. It broke the spell. 

“ Maunsell,” said Cromwell, and his voice shook, 
“ take her away. I will see to this.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HER FORGIVENESS 

With the morning the trumpets blared “ Boot 
and Saddle,” and an hour later, whilst the dew was 
yet wet upon the grass, and glittered on the leaves, 
the long line of the Ironsides trotted through 
Coombe Woods for the last time. 

A little in the rear, Cromwell and Maunsell rode 
side by side, the latter with his wounded arm in a 
sling. 

They spoke long and earnestly to each other, and 
half unconsciously slackened pace; until at last they 
had fallen so far back, that but for an occasional 
glint of steel in the skirts of the forest, they had lost 
sight of the troop. 

Finally Cromwell reined in, and held out his 
gauntleted hand. 

“And so we part at last, Maunsell,” he said, 
“ thou to take thy road, and I mine. I understand 
all now, and I wish thee well.” 

Maunsell took the outstretched hand. “ Your 
254 


HER FORGIVENESS 


255 


Highness,” he said, “ England can no longer be 
home for me. Within a week I shall be on the seas, 
and in the new world which lies beyond, hope to 
forget the old — all except the days we fought and 
bled for the cause/* 

The Lord Protector looked hard at him, a grave 
sympathy in his glance. 

“ So be it! ” he said. “ Last night we saw God’s 
way — and this, mayhap, is best for thee.” 

And without another word of greeting, he put 
spurs to his horse, and galloped off. 

For a little Antony Maunsell stood where he was, 
watching the square-set figure as the good horse 
bore it away. Now and again as Cromwell passed 
from the shadows of the great trees into the wet 
light of the morning, it fell in rippling rays of fire 
upon his corselet, and thus it was he saw him for 
the last time, in a glory of flame as he spurred round 
the elbow of the wood, and was lost to view. 

Slowly and sadly Antony Maunsell turned rein 
to ride back, and as he did so, it came to him that 
he was on the very spot where three days ago his 
hand of vengeance had been stayed. 

The shadow of the great elm was over him, the 
fallen tree was scarce a lance length away, and the 
turf was still cut up with the marks of trampling 
feet. There, where the bridge spanned the stream, 


256 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


all was light and colour, with the pink of the ragged 
robin and yellow stars of the goldilocks. Here it 
was that his hand been stayed — stayed because it 
was not his to strike. 

“ It is true,” he muttered, “ we saw God’s way 
last night; ” and then, touching the black with 
his spur, rode back in the direction of Coombe 
Royal. 

They buried Kit Harden in his own church at 
Hardenholt, where his forefathers slept, and where 
he — last of his race — was to rest till the dreadful 
trumpet rang that would summon the quick and the 
dead to answer before their Judge. And she — his 
poor victim — found another grave where kindly 
hands laid her, and when it was over, Elihu Burn- 
side rent his garment like a prophet of old, and 
taking his staff, went forth — where, no man knew. 
And they who saw him go, and marked his silver 
hairs, and the endless sorroW on his stricken face, 
let him pass unquestioned and untouched, and none 
dared hinder him. 

All this and more was Maunsell’s task, and when 
it was all done, he stood before a pale, sad-eyed 
woman — a woman to-day who was but a girl yes- 
terday — and bade her farewell. 

During the days of her trial she had found in this 
man, whom she thought at first her deadly foe, her 


HER FORGIVENESS 


257 


best friend. In her despair she had turned to him, 
and it was his arm that had helped and aided to the 
end. She had begun to think of him as a staff of 
support, and was dimly conscious of a great sacrifice 
made for her. And now he was going, and for ever 
— this she knew. 

She fully realised why, and felt it to be for the 
best. There could be no hope for him — never — 
and so she let him go. 

She did not die, or fall ill, or give way to hopeless 
despair, though the laughter, the girlhood, and the 
happiness that was hers passed from her life, and 
with it the love she had felt for Harden. 

Pride came to her aid, and as time wore on 
the heart wounds healed, though their scars re- 
mained. 

There was much to do in that little kingdom of 
hers, and here, where her name was reverenced 
throughout the broad county, she threw herself 
into her work — a true feudal chatelaine. 

At times, however, her heart went back to the 
past, and amidst the shadows she conjured up then, 
there was one figure that ever stood out, brave and 
strong. And then, half unconsciously at first, she 
began to miss him, to long to see him once again, 
even to reproach herself for not having stayed 
him. She thought she could have done that, 


258 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


even though there could never be anything be- 
tween them. 

No news of Maunsell ever came. From the time 
he had ridden forth from Coombe Royal all had 
been silence, dense and impenetrable. 

Late one evening as she dreamed over the fire, 
her thoughts went back to the past, and then, as 
ever before, began to centre and concentrate upon 
the man she had banished. She began, however, 
to think of him more softly, more kindly, than she 
had ever done before. Where was hfe? In what 
distant land? Living or dead? She knew not. In 
her heart she began to blame him for his silence. 
He might have written a line, sent a message. 

Suddenly she sprang up in hot anger. “ He 
, could not have cared,” she said; “he has forgot- 
ten Her eyes filled with tears, her face 

flushed, and then it came to her that fbr her there 
.could yet be love, and life, and happiness — and with 
her own hands she had thrown it aside ! 

One day a whisper ran throughout the land that 
thrilled it from end to end; and then a post who 
rode red-spurred from London made the tidings 
sure. The Lord Protector was dead; the strong 
hand that held his country in a grip of iron was chill 
and cold, and there was none to wear the giant’s 
robe. 


HER FORGIVENESS 


2 59 


Long dead hopes revived. Men began to whis- 
per amongst themselves of the coming of the King. 
And at last, one morning, amidst the peal of merry 
bells, the Lord’s Anointed came to his own, and the 
glad heart of a nation went forth to welcome him; 
but amidst the throngs that filled the streets of the 
great city, amidst the crowd that jostled and 
swayed before Westminster Hall, there were cer- 
tain dark-browed, fierce-looking men — men who 
could never forget, men whose lips hissed curses as 
their eyes fell upon a grinning skull, placed high 
above two others, on the spikes of the gate beneath 
which the King was to pass. 

But a short time back and those empty sockets 
held eyes whose very look was enough to make 
those who now jeered and scoffed below shrink and 
shiver. There was a time when a word from the 
dead man’s lips would have made nations beyond 
the seas tremble, and it had come to this! A head- 
less corpse that swung drearily on its chains at Ty- 
burn — a ghastly skull that frowned in silence over 
a roaring, hissing crowd! Living he was beyond 
their reach; dead this was their ignoble ven- 
geance. 

All this and more — news of the great doings of 
the Court, news of the pardon of all men who had 
borne arms against him by a gracious King, news 


260 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


of how gay and bright the great city was, came to 
Dorothy Capel in her woodland home; but no temp- 
tation could induce her to leave Coombe Royal, and 
there she remained a gentle queen of her country- 
side. 

One evening, when Coombe Woods were red and 
gold in their autumn glory, Dorothy Capel found 
herself in the very heart of the forest. It was almost 
sunset; the shadows were growing long and deep, 
and ever and again as the wind swept through the 
solemn trees, there was a musical rustling of the 
leaves, and the boughs overhead shook and moaned 
like the cordage of a ship in a gale. 

In chequered light and shade a long glade 
stretched before her far into the deeps of the for- 
est, and, as she stood at the head of this, and let her 
eyes run westward, where against the low, sunlit 
hills Coombe Royal stood out huge and vast, she 
heard the distant beat of galloping hoofs. Nearer 
and nearer they came, and she faced round and 
looked. Far down the glade a horseman was riding 
directly towards her. Far off though he was, there 
was something strangely familiar about the figure. 
It was — no, it was impossible — it could not be! 
And she had stepped back behind the shelter of a 
gnarled oak, her heart beating with a new hope. 

As he approached, the horseman slackened pace 


HER FORGIVENESS 


261 


to a trot, and then to a walk. Finally, as he reached 
the head of the glade, he reined up his horse, a 
powerful black, whose foam-flecked sides bore wit- 
ness how fast and far he had been ridden. And 
then, all unconscious of the watcher so near at 
hand, he sprang from the saddle, and, looping the 
reins in his arm, stood as Dorothy had stood but a 
moment before, and let his eyes linger over the 
purpling hills and soft landscape, and his face was 
turned towards Coombe Royal. 

It was he, Black Tony, come back — a little 
thinner than of yore, as tall and grim-looking as 
ever; but there was a wondrous softness in his eyes 
as he stood there watching the fading lights. And 
then there came the sound of a voice — a voice that 
he thought he would never hear again, and someone 
was standing before him with outstretched hand, 
and welcoming him back again. 

He held her hand in his, and gazed at her. She 
was the same, and yet not the same. Taller, more 
stately, graver but more beautiful than in the days 
gone by. 

When the first greetings were over something 
like a constraint fell over them. There were 
walls and walls of silence, the silence of past years, 
to be overthrown. He mistook the reserve in 
which she hedged herself in for coldness, and she 


262 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


thought him stiffer, more formal if possible, than 
before. 

For a while they talked of the most ordinary 
things, and she told him all her news — how Polly 
Maple was Polly Maple no longer, but, as Mistress 
Hopkins, now ruled in the place of Mistress Bat- 
tersby at Coombe Royal — this had happened about 
a year ago, when one fine day Marjorie Battersby 
had changed her name to Rock, and now lived un- 
der the shadow of Coombe Royal, in a cottage that 
the Cornet had purchased. 

“And do you know,” she said with a laugh — 
something of her old brightness was coming back 
to her — “ the Cornet is writing the history of the 
Thirty Years' War.” 

And so on — with their hearts a hundred miles 
away, until at last Maunsell said: 

“ The King has pardoned me with others, and 
one day it came to me to look once more on Eng- 
land, and so I returned.” 

“ And you stay, do you not? ” Try as she would 
she could not hide the eagerness in her voice. 

“ No,” he answered, “ of what avail would it be? 
There is a great world beyond the seas where a man 
may work, and forget if he can.” 

“ Is there need to forget? ” 

He started at the words. She had stepped back 


HER FORGIVENESS 


263 


a pace from him as she spoke, and the shadows 
were over her face, else he had seen her eyes full 
of tears. 

“ Of what avail is it to remember — and yet I can- 
not forget, and therefore I go.” 

She could not let him pass from her life again. 
If he but knew — if he but knew ! The blood rushed 
in flame to her cheeks. For a moment she stood ir- 
resolute, and then: 

“ But if you were asked — if I asked you to stay? ” 
she said softly. 

“ You? ” he said, and stepped forward; and then 
their eyes met for one brief instant, and Antony 
Maunsell knew that he had won — won when all 
seemed lost and hopeless. 

“At last!” he said. “At last!” And, bending 
forwards, strong and masterful, took her in his 
arms. 

****** 

They stood together watching the sunset gild 
the crests of the distant hills, and Dorothy turned 
to Maunsell. 

“ The King has forgiven you, but you have yet to 
ask another pardon — and from me.” 

“ For what? — wherein lies my offence? ” And 
he smiled down at her. 


264 


THE LORD PROTECTOR 


“ For long years of silence — for years that are 
past and can never come back to us. Can you be 
forgiven that? ” 

And Antony Maunsell took his pardon from 
her lips. 


THE END 


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